


We'll Meet Again

by Pixiespriteify



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, WW2 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiespriteify/pseuds/Pixiespriteify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World War II AU. Pilot Lena 'Tracer' Oxton crashes during a mission and is picked up and nursed back to health by a group of Resistance fighters. She needs papers and help to get back home. Meanwhile, assassin Amélie Lacroix is sent to infiltrate the small Resistance group to gain intel whilst feeding them inaccurate information courtesy of the invading forces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note to say that I'm not the best at history or French, but I'm trying my best and researching as best I can. Hope you enjoy it :)

 “I told you before!” yelled Lena over her shoulder. “I ain’t shooting the parachutes. It ain’t right!”

“They’re Jerries!” was the sharp reply.

Lena focused on the airspace in front of her, battling the Luftwaffe pilots. “They’re defenceless!”

“God damn it, Tracer!”

Suddenly, an impact rocked the plane. Lena’s head was smashed against the glass of the plane’s canopy. She was just grateful she had her helmet on. “Trace, we’re going dow-”

The sudden roar of freezing wind was deafening, blocking out the sounds of the engines exploding around her.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday!” she yelled over her radio, but she was quickly overwhelmed by smoke. It burned her eyes and down her throat. The wind battered her as the plane fell into a nose-dive. “Bloody hell!”

She clawed at the controls, trying to force the plane to level out, but she was flying blind. She couldn’t hear her crew. She didn’t know if they were even still alive.

“Tracer!” squawked a voice over the radio. “Tracer, come in! Lena!”

Her head swam as she coughed violently, reaching for the radio. Then an impact rocked the plane again, throwing her to the side. Pain exploded down her left side and a second impact threw her from the plane, into the darkness as her body shut down.

* * *

 

Lena’s eyes jolted open, her heart hammering as she sat up, her body drenched in sweat. Her eyes darted around the dark room around her, identifying the familiar layout. Her hand relaxed around the revolver she kept under her pillow. Her breathing began to slow as she leaned over and switched on a small light by her bedside. The room looked the same as ever – the chair, the desk off to the right, her chest of drawers housing her things to the left and a small bookcase. This had been her home for the past six months. Ever since her plane had been shot down.

Somehow, she had survived her plane crash – though she was the only one. She had been discovered and dragged from the wreckage by Resistance fighters and brought to one of their bases to recover. With the help of Angela Ziegler, she was soon on the mend. She found herself in the mountains of Brittany, recovering in a small hideout.

She grumbled as the dawn light poured in from the distance. Untangling her legs from her bedsheets, she slid off and trudged over to the mirror. Her brown hair stuck up in all directions – a consequence of her shearing it off to pose as male to get into the RAF. Desperate as they were for pilots, they just assumed she was a very effeminate young man. But she kept up, she flew well and became top of her class. And now she was here. Stuck in France. With mad hair.

However, today was the day she could go and meet with the Résistance leader, to try and get a way home. She had no papers, no way to legally get back without sending a transmission to Britain and securing some form of identification that could get her home.

She threw on some clothes, a loose shirt and a pair of trousers, covered over by a long coat to shield her from the autumn chill, followed by her boots. Then she headed for the door, tucking her revolver into her belt. The small shack was one of many that the _Maquis_ used in the area to house their people. Lena had seen people come and go, some never coming back. Angela Zeigler was a familiar face, and Lena scanned the small area for her. Down the hill, she could see the blonde standing at the edge of a cliff, surveying the snowy land beneath.

Lena trudged over to her, ankle-deep in snow, stuffing her hands in her pockets against the bitter cold.

“Morning, love,” she greeted in English, grateful that Angela too spoke her native tongue well. Though Lena knew some French before her damned flight, she had had to learn quickly. Angela was only too happy to help, along with a few other friends she had made in the Resistance.

“Good morning, Lena,” Angela replied, turning to smile at her. Lena immediately noted the dark circles under her eyes, the bloodstains under her nails. Another battle had commenced in the night, and some of the injured were returned to her.

“Rough night?” asked Lena, stepping up beside her and staring down at the valley, her breath clouding up in the cool air.

Angela laughed. “Yes. Another attack. Five injured. Six dead.”

Lena sighed, imagining all those young men and women that could have been involved. “Did we win ground?”

“Thankfully, yes.” Angela turned her eyes to Lena, placing a hand on her arm. “You’re coming with me today, yes?”

Lena nodded, smiling. “When do we leave?”

“We move out in an hour. Best not to keep him waiting.”

* * *

 Heels clicked against the wooden floor, drawing every eye to the intimidating figure. But other than a glance her way, nobody moved to stop her as she swept through the hotel lobby. She smiled politely and thanked a man who held the lift door for her. If he had focused on her eyes, he would have noticed the smile wasn’t sincere, but of course, his attention was elsewhere. At her floor, she exited the lift without a backwards glance and strode down the corridor, searching for the correct room. Again, she fake-smiled at the maid, offering her a quiet ‘ _Bonsoir’_ before she turned the corner into the mercifully empty hallway. Her fake-smile transformed into a smirk as she withdrew a key from the depths of her dress and pressed her ear against the door. Voices spoke from within. A radio, she guessed. Nobody else had come up to his room, she had been watching from the next building over. Quietly, she slid the key into the lock and opened the door. Every movement had been carefully planned out for over a week.

Closing the door behind her without a sound, she cast her gaze around the room, ears primed for any noise. When none came, her eyes narrowed. Her hand slid down her thigh and reached under her black dress, revealing a small strap around her leg. From it, she drew a revolver.

“ _Bonsoir, Monsieur Marjane_ ,” she greeted in a low tone, holding the gun behind her back. The man lounging in his chair leapt up, his whiskey glass falling to the ground.

“ _Qui es-tu_?” he demanded. “ _Que faites-vous ici?_ ”

She smiled a cold, empty smile as she pointed the gun at him. “Come now, _Monsieur_ ,” she purred. “We both know that is not your native tongue.”

He was forty-six years old, his dark hair beginning to turn grey. His suit jacket and tie lay across his bed, his braces hanging down to his knees, a few of his top buttons loose. He was also a British spy in the Vichy Government.

She watched his eyes dart to a small drawer by the bedside, only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. She pulled the hammer of the revolver back with a satisfying click. “One move and you die. _Comprendre_?”

He nodded, staying remarkably calm despite the situation. “What do you want?”

She didn’t reply immediately, instead moving towards the radio, sliding her fingers over the dials until she found the volume. “My employers wish for some information. That is all.”

“What information?”

“Do you have a safe?” she asked, growing bored of the situation already.

He smirked. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Pity,” she said, though she felt nothing. She turned the dial of the radio slowly, turning up the volume to a satisfactory level. “Last chance to save your own skin.”

He said nothing, merely dived to the nearby table and grabbed a vase, throwing it at her. She side-stepped it easily enough, rolling her eyes as she fired a shot. It struck him in the chest as he ran for the window. He stopped, collapsing onto the rug.  
She shook her head, replacing her gun in her holster and turned down the radio a fraction to avoid neighbours knocking on the door and complaining. She reached behind her and tied back her long, silky black hair before she crouched beside him and efficiently checked his pockets. He was still alive, but not for long, with the blood pouring out of him. The cleaner's would have fun with that. 

“You… you… bitch.”

“ _Oui, oui,_ ” she sighed. She had been called every name under the sun while her targets bled out. Finding nothing in his pockets, she stood up and moved on to the jacket. Still nothing. She frowned, turning back to the dying man. She could have shot him in the head, but the chest was a safer option for a moving target. She ran her fingers up and down the material, but still couldn’t find his safe keys. Moving onto his tie, she grinned as she picked it up. It was heavy. Slipping a knife out of the strap on her other leg, she cut into the material and tipped the key out into her hand.

* * *

 

Lena leapt from the truck into the noon sun, stretching her muscles after their long drive in the back of a truck. She hadn’t enjoyed it, she was never good at sitting still. Only when she was in the pilot’s seat could she sit for hours at a time. The rifle bumped against her thigh as she slung it more comfortably over her shoulder. It was warmer here than up in the mountains. Dew coated the ground from where the frost had melted in the sun. Ahead was a rather small base, the gate closing behind them. Armed men and women patrolled the perimeter and others were prepping vehicles for some mission. Angela walked past Lena and nudged her with a grin. The group broke apart, the other fighters disappearing to their regular roles. Angela led Lena up to the large building that looked like an old warehouse.

“He’s a bit… intense,” Angela warned as they clambered through the reinforced doorway, passing by a group of women stripping down rifles. “But he’s good.”

“I’m sure,” nodded Lena, her boots thudding against the stairs that led to the second floor. The warehouse was full of activity – some areas were full of desks spread with maps, with people arguing over the top of them. Another section had radios being monitored, codes being tapped through devices to who knew where. Yet another area held the injured, medics running too and fro to try and save as many as they could. At the far end Lena could see a barracks area.

It was loud and busy. Lena loved it.

Angela came to a halt outside of a door and knocked twice.

“Enter,” was the gruff reply.

Inside was a man dressed in a blue jumper, leaning against a desk upon which sat a map of an area. Opposite him was another man, arms folded as he gazed at the map from behind a mask.

“Zeigler,” he nodded as Angela held open the door for Lena. “And this must be the pilot.” His gaze bore into her, though Lena didn’t look away.

“Name’s Lena, love,” she said, slipping her hands into her pockets.

“Lena,” he echoed. “I am 76. This is Genji,” he said, gesturing to his companion.

“I’m sorry, 76?” Lena chirped before she could stop herself.

“Yes,” he replied with a frown. “Is there a problem?”

Lena waved her hand. “No, no. Carry on.”

“So,” said 76, standing up straight. “You need papers.” Lena nodded. “And I can get you them. Once they come through, we can send you to a safe house and then organise transport to get you home."

"Thank you," she said gratefully. 

"But I hope you can help us in the mean time. We've lost a lot of fighters, we can use whoever we can get."

"Of course," nodded Lena.

* * *

 

“ _Madamé Lacroix_ ,” nodded a man, lowering his rifle and signalling for the gate to be opened.

Amélie barely even glanced his way as she strolled into the base. Men armed with rifles were milling around, repairing vehicles and gun turrets. High above the gate was a metal guard tower with a spotlight trained on the surrounding woods. The men glanced her way, muttering to each other.

Amélie knew the stories they told about her. Only half were true, but it didn’t hurt to let them carry on with their rumours. But it was true she was the most feared assassin the Vichy government had called in to deal with their Résistance problem. It was also true she had murdered her husband while he slept. He was a secret member of the Résistance, and Amélie had her orders. It was her job.

A year later, she was still the best mercenary this side of the country. She wore no uniform, setting her apart from the others at the base. Her boots thudded against the mud, her combat trousers tucked into them and a long coat that went down to her knees. Over her shoulder she carried her beloved sniper rifle, a variety of other weaponry dotted around her person.

She entered the building without saying a word and made her way to the offices inside. Gracefully, she climbed the stairs and located the correct office. Without knocking, she kicked open the door and strode into the office. The balding man behind the desk jumped, his pen sliding across the paper of the document he was signing.

“Lacroix!” he cursed, his face going red from embarrassment. “Must you do that every time?” he asked in German.

“I must get my amusement somehow,” she replied with a cold smile. “My money, if you please.”

Grumbling, the man reached into the pocket of his greyish uniform, withdrawing a roll of notes. “Francs, as you requested,” he said, rolling it across the table. Amélie caught it before it rolled off the desk and inspected it carefully, taking her time. She heard the impatient tapping of a pen after a few seconds. “The documents.”

“Of course,” replied Amélie, reaching into her inside pocket of her coat. She withdrew a small envelope and threw it down on the desk.

“Excellent,” he said, pleased with the outcome. He reached into a drawer and slid a brown envelope to her. “We have another job lined up for you.” 

Amélie took the envelope, smirking as the front was stamped with the name WIDOWMAKER. "Are your boys still calling me that?" she asked, amused. He simply shrugged. Amélie opened it and scanned the writing. “Good. I’ll do it.”

“You need to get this right, Lacroix,” he warned. “The Résistance is gaining power in these parts.”

Amélie folded up the paper and slid it into her pocket. “Don’t worry, _Herr Schmidt.”_

“I pay you so I don’t have to worry,” he replied grumpily.

 

Later that night, Amélie drove back to her apartment. Vichy agents had paid for her little safe-house. It suited her – Spartan design, very little embellishments. Simply a bed, a kitchen and a bathroom. All she needed to live. She spent a lot of time running around the country doing the government’s dirty work for them.

Closing the door behind her, she bolted the doors and pulled off her gloves. She crossed the room to her bed and set her rifle down against her bedside table. Shrugging her coat off, she hung it from her bedpost and sat down, unlacing her boots. Once she’d kicked them off, she went to the kitchen to fix herself some food. She laid the envelope down on the counter while she cooked herself a quick meal. The mission was an interesting one. A rare infiltration mission. Get close to the resistance and discover what she could to report back. She wasn’t fond of these jobs, but the money spoke for itself. Her eyes scanned along another few lines. The ultimate goal was to blend in so that she could find out the main players and take them out quietly.

“ _Intéressant_ ,” she mused, turning the page.

* * *

“Now, Lena,” said 76. “I can –”

A radio squawked abruptly. All eyes turned to Genji, who answered the call. Lena tried her best not to eye his metal leg.

“Squad 16!” A voice shouted over the line in French. “We need back-up!” Lena’s eyes widened as she heard gunfire in the background. “We’re calling a retreat!”

Before Genji could even say anything, 76 had seized the map and located the correct squad. “We’re close!” he shouted, grabbing a rifle. “Move out! You too,” he added, looking at Lena, who saluted quickly.

Boots thudded all around, orders shouted and engines roaring into life as people mobilised to help their comrades. Lena scrambled into the yard, clambering after Genji into a truck full of armed fighters. She turned and offered her arm to Angela, pulling her up onto the truck. Lena sat, her fingers tapping against her knees in anticipation. 

* * *

 

Amélie steered her motorbike through the winding roads, her pack secured on her back. She could hear gunfire in the distance. The attack had started just on time, she thought as she swerved around another corner. Having only been temporarily delayed while waiting for one Isabelle Delyle, she had promptly disposed of the Resistance girl and stolen her transport. She was to meet a squad of Vichy agents to try to beat back the _Maquis_ in the area. Only she would promptly change sides and join the Resistance. She was nearly there, right on time since she had gunned the engine the whole way here. Riding over the hillside, she saw a truck rolling in from the distance. More Resistance fighters, she reasoned.

“ _Merde,_ ” she swore. Still, no matter. She had the information they needed. Once they saw it checked out, they wouldn’t question her. Especially if she took out a few agents on her way in. 

* * *

 

As soon as the truck skidded to a halt, it was chaos. Lena leapt from the back and hit the ground hard. She scrambled for cover behind a tree as bullets pinged off of the ground around her. Taking a few deep breaths, the taste of gun-smoke on her tongue, she felt her adrenaline rush. She rolled from cover, darting behind another tree and crouching down. Leaning out, she aimed and fired in short bursts, forcing the Vichy agents back under cover. She didn’t notice the chill anymore. Her mind was completely in the fight. 76 ran out of nowhere, skirting the agents’ cover without taking a hit and firing like a madman.

Lena used the distraction to her advantage, running forwards under the cover of a large well. They were on the outskirts of a small village, she realised now that the haze of smoke had cleared to reveal the tiny houses.

Now she had a better vantage point, she poked her head over the top and fired a number of rounds. A spurt of blood erupted from the nearest agent as her bullets struck his shoulder. Lena didn’t let herself feel guilty. There would be time later. Many other fighters had drawn closer, pressing in on the agents.

Lena ducked as bullets tore up the rock in front of her. Shards flew in her eyes, peppering her face. Over the gunfire, she thought she heard a motorbike.

“Bloody hell!” she cursed, popping up to return fire. Only more bullets fired on her, forcing her back down. She was pinned. Steeling herself until the bullets stopped, she jumped up, gun ready. She lined up her shot and –

A bullet exploded in her target’s head, straight through the eyes. Lena squinted. He was shot from the far side. Was he shot by his own men? Lena scanned the area, guessing where the shot originated from. And there was a sight.

“ _Attendez_!” came a cry. A female voice. Crouched behind a motorbike, a sniper rifle nestled in her hands, was a woman, long black hair billowing in the breeze as she shouted at the Resistance fighters. One of the agents turned towards the mystery woman and began shouting in German. The woman shot him through the throat.

Lena fired, striking another agent in the leg.

“ _Je suis la Résistance!”_ the woman called. “ _S'il vous plaît ! J'ai un message_!”

The last agent was picked off and all attention turned to the woman who slung her rifle over her shoulder and held up her hands.

76 held up a fist, ordering them all to stop. “ _Quelle heure est il?”_ he shouted.

Lena quirked an eyebrow. Strange question for the circumstances.

“ _Onze minutes après midi!”_ Lena checked her watch. It was quarter past two.

_“Beau temps nous allons avoir_! _”_

“ _Trés, mais_ _une tempête arrive ce soir_!”

76 nodded, satisfied. “She’s Resistance!” he shouted. “Let’s move out!”

Lena eyed the woman as she lowered her hands. “Lena!” called Genji. “Cover me.”

Trailing after Genji, she followed him to the woman who stood still, a small smile on her face. The sun poured down on them through the trees. The smell of smoke lingered.

“Name?” asked Genji as he shouldered his rifle.

“Isabelle,” she replied. She cast a glance at Lena, who kept her rifle trained on her. “Isabelle Delyle.”

“Put the gun down, Isabelle.”

“ _Bien sûr_ ,” she nodded, laying it on the ground beside the bike. “You may search me, if you must.”

Genji rolled his eyes and began to pat down the woman.

Lena caught Isabelle’s eyes focusing on her as Genji searched her. She said nothing, merely kept her rifle aimed on her. Genji paused when he peeled back her coat sleeve to reveal a nasty looking cut.

“Shrapnel,” she said neutrally. Lena peered closer and indeed saw a slither of rock embedded in her arm.

When Genji was finished, he handed Lena the weapons he had stripped from Isabelle and led her gruffly over to 76, Lena following at a distance.

* * *

 ‘Isabelle’ bit her tongue as she was manhandled to the tall, white haired man with a number 76 on the dog-tags around his neck. Her wound stung from where Isabelle had sliced her with a knife. Amélie was taken by surprise – she had sniped her from up a tree along the road where she had set up a fake road-block. But despite the bullet lodged in her cheek, the girl fought with all her might, managing to slice her. Of course, Amélie put her down. Upon her arrival in the village, she quickly jammed some grit into it, clenching her teeth against the pain.

“Your message,” he stated rather than asked, staring down at her. He spoke in French, though clearly he was not a native speaker.

Amélie flawlessly recited her message – false information to help steer the Resistance right into the Nazis’ hands. “On September the 3rd the Germans will sweep this valley. Intelligence suggests they will reach here by September the 10th. I can show you the proposed routes on a map.”

“How do you know this?” asked 76.

“I’m a runner, sir,” she replied with a shrug. “I got the message from Jacques Clermont.”

76 narrowed his eyes, but then nodded. Jacques Clermont was pretty high up in the organisation, known for using runners rather than transmitting over radios in fear of breaking codes. His runners were all supplied with suicide pills in case they were captured. Amélie had relieved Isabelle of that as well as her bike.

“You’re a skilled fighter,” he complimented.

Amélie raised an eyebrow but then remembered she was ‘Isabelle’ now. “Thank you, sir,” she said, though the words felt like acid in her mouth.

“We could use you.”

“I’m at your disposal, sir.”

“Good.” He then noticed her sleeve was still rolled up, revealing her cut. “Get on the truck with Lena. She’ll take you Angela.”

Lena perked up at the sound of her name, her fingers going to her forehead in a jaunty salute. “Aye, aye,” she said brightly. 76 and Genji sauntered away and ‘Isabelle’ turned to her.

“ _Vous êtes Lena?”_ she asked.

“Yep, that’s me, love,” she said in English, her wide smile on her face. Isabelle’s brow furrowed for a moment and Lena smacked herself on the forehead. “ _Oui_ ,” she said hesitantly. “ _Je suis Lena_.”

“You’re English, no?” asked Isabelle in heavily accented English.

Lena nodded happily. “That’s me.” She saluted again as they walked towards the trucks.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Lena,” said Isabelle. “I’m Isabelle.”

“Nice to meet you too. Now that’s a nasty looking cut you got there,” she commented, eyeing the bloodied mess on her arm. “Angela!” she called, looking around. “Ah, there she is.” Lena pointed out the blonde, who was taking stock of the wounded. Thankfully, there were only one or two. “She can take care of that.”

“Uh, Lena,” said Amélie, playing the part of the slightly confused new person. “My bike…”

“Oh yes,” replied Lena. “We can take it up. Never hurts to have more wheels. God knows we’re losing enough. Can you manage to get back with that?” she asked, sounding concerned.

For a split second, Amélie was taken aback by those large, brown eyes staring up into her own. No stranger had ever looked at her in such a caring way before. She shook it off. “Of course,” she smiled. Internally, she just wanted to get to wherever they were going so she could sneak away and report in.

As she swung a leg over the chassis and settled into the seat, she considered that perhaps this mission was a mistake. She was an assassin. She was above it all, waiting, planning. Everything unfolded the way she expected it to, and if it didn’t, she had numerous exit plans. This, on the other hand, she had no idea how it would turn out. It all relied on chance. Too many ifs. Not enough solid facts. She could slip up, she could be discovered at the drop of a hat and that would be it. As she gunned the engines, she saw Lena hovering, fingers tapping on the straps of both her own rifle and Amélie’s.

“Aren’t you getting on?” she asked, eyeing the trucks that were departing.

Lena snapped out of her daze and flashed her a bright, cheery smile. Amélie had a feeling this girl was going to bug her. How could she be that happy?

Amélie gunned the engine as Lena rested her hands on her waist and they shot off after the trucks. She was unaccustomed to people touching her, but Lena’s warm hands permeated heat into her chilled flesh. She had circulatory problems that meant her hands were always freezing. But the warmth was… nice.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” she muttered to herself as the wind whistled past them.


	2. Chapter 2

“So where are you from, love?” asked Lena, swabbing a disinfectant over her cut. Angela was busy with her other patients, so Lena had taken Isabelle to the bed in the corner and began fixing up her arm.

Amélie looked up, drawn out of her thoughts. Lena’s little hands were so soft and gentle as she cleaned the wound of grit and rock. Human contact was not something she desired often, but Lena, despite her cheery, overly talkative personality, Amélie could see a future where she would eventually grow somewhat fond of the girl. However, that was a future that could not be.

“Annecy. You?”

“London,” replied Lena. “France must be nicer, though,” she said, looking up with a smile. “All that sun, the atmosphere.”

Amélie laughed, though even she found it odd. Perhaps she was putting too much effort into being Isabelle. “I always wanted to visit London as a child.”

Lena’s eyes lit up. “Aw nice! Did you ever go?”

“I did –” Amélie hissed as Lena removed a particularly large sliver of rock.

“Sorry,” said Lena.

“Don’t worry.” Memories of her visit to London flashed through her mind. The delicate mission she carried out with the utmost finesse. The perfect timing, the perfect shot. The perfect kill that made her heart race, pleasure rushing through her from the satisfaction of all her hard work and planning paying off. “I did.”

Lena continuously shifted her focus from the wound to Amélie’s face. “Did you see the sights? Or more of a work thing?”

Amélie paused to think while Lena wiped away some blood from her arm. “Mostly a work thing.” In her mind's eye, she recalled the view from when she was perched atop a huge tower block. She had seen the sights from there, technically. “But it is a beautiful city.”

“And Annecy?” asked Lena, wrapping a bandage around her clean wound. “I’ve only ever flown over before. Well, until now, obviously.”

Amélie sighed. It had been so long since she had spoken like this to anyone. The guise of Isabelle allowed, no, required, that she connect with people. Most of them she didn’t understand, and they didn’t understand her. But Lena seemed… sweet. “Annecy is lovely. The lake, the landscape, the water reflecting the streetlamps at in the evenings.” She paused. “The food.”

Lena giggled and finished wrapping Amélie’s wound. “There we are, love. Good as new.”

“ _Merci_.”

“ _De nada_ ,” Lena laughed, waving the thanks away. She stood up, cracking her knuckles before she stopped, glancing down at Amélie. “That wasn’t French, was it?”

Amélie let out a low chuckle. “ _Non, chérie._ ” She froze. The term of affection had slid out of her mouth before she even realised. She hadn’t spoken that word for over a year. Not since…

“Isabelle?” said Lena, waving a hand in front of her face. “Away with the fairies, love?”

“ _Quoi_?”

“Y’alright, there?”

Shaking herself, Amélie composed herself. “ _Oui, ce n’est rien._ ”

“If you’re sure. Let’s get you a room.”

 

 

They rose and left. Since 76 and Angela were busy, Lena had taken Isabelle under her wing. Lena knew what it was like to be the new person in the group, and she was determined to be the person she needed while she was recovering. Isabelle seemed nice enough. Lena got the vibe that Isabelle was hiding something, but then who wasn’t these days.

“Hungry?” asked Lena. Isabelle nodded. “There’s grub somewhere. Then we’ll fix you with a bunk for the night.”

Isabelle followed behind Lena as she led the way out of the med bay and into the narrow corridor. A few signs printed on the wall indicated the direction to the mess hall. Lena slowed her fast pace to accommodate Isabelle, who seemed intent on taking in every detail. She was a sniper, she supposed. It was her job to notice everything.

They arrived into the hustle and bustle of the mess hall. Lena grabbed two plates and piled them high with food.

“See a table?” she asked Isabelle, who was taller and able to see over the crowd. Isabelle peered around for a moment before she nodded.

“When can I have my gun back?” asked Isabelle as they sat down.

“Oh right,” laughed Lena, shrugging off the rifle from her shoulder. “Sorry. Here you go.” She handed the gleaming weapon over, admiring it as Isabelle took it. Lena reached into her pockets and fumbled around, placing an assortment of bullets and knives on the table between them. “And here’s the rest of your stuff.”

Lena continued to empty her pockets. “It’s a lot of stuff.”

Isabelle smiled somewhat bashfully as she slipped the items into pockets in her combats and coat. “I like to be prepared.”

“So I see.” Lena dug into her food with gusto while Isabelle picked at hers. She didn’t eat much in general anyway.

* * *

 Once they’d finished eating, the pair wandered over to the barracks. “I’m afraid it’s not fantastic. But it’s a bed. We’ll be back in the village soon enough. You can come with. If you want.”

“That would be lovely,” replied Amélie. She had decided that if she formed a connection with Lena, then the others would trust her more easily.

Lena walked around a corner, navigating the maze of corridors until they emerged into the barracks area. It was a long room, walls lined with rows and rows of bunks.

“Here we are!” Lena exclaimed, darting forwards to snatch a pair of bunks away from a rather tall, burly soldier who was eyeing them and their chosen sleeping quarters.

“Tracer!” yelled the man in French. “What the hell?”

“Snooze, ya lose,” replied Lena in English, hopping up onto the top bunk and staring him down.

“Fine,” he grumbled in English, turning to find another bunk. He caught sight of Amélie. “Good luck with this one.” He jerked a thumb back at a grinning Lena, swinging her legs triumphantly. “She’s a handful.”

“Oi!” shouted Lena in English. “Watch it, you!”

“ _Petite idiote anglais fille.”_

_“Salaud_!”

“ _Ta gueule_!”

Amélie’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Lena while they insulted each other. He looked big enough to crush her under his fist.

“Relax, love,” grinned Lena, turning her attention back to her. Amélie placed her rifle down on the bottom bunk, her eyes fixed curiously on Lena. “That’s just Winston.”

“Who is Tracer?” Amélie asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Lena’s smile faltered a little. “Oh, that’s me. It’s my call sign.”

Amélie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You are a pilot?”

Lena nodded bashfully. She pointed to her hair. “Posed as a lad to get in. Had to cut my hair off to fit in.”

Despite herself, Amélie was impressed. “You have a lot of guts, Lena.”

Waving away the praise, Lena leapt off of the bunk, landing gracefully beside Amélie. “Just half daft,” she replied. “I’m off for patrol.”

“Oh,” said Amélie, her fingers running over the rifle. “Could I join you?” The more she got this girl to talk, the more information she could send back to HQ.

Lena’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re volunteering for patrol?”

“ _Oui_. Is that a problem?”

Lena quickly shook her head, the smile returning to her face. “It’s just…” She paused, running a hand through her messy hair. “Not many people want to wander a little village in the freezing cold.”

“I’m not ‘many people’,” grinned Amélie. “I also fear I will not be able to sleep.”

Lena nodded. She knew that feeling well. “Well, you can come with me. You’re a pretty good shot so I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you on side.”

“ _Merci_.” 

* * *

 

Lena trudged over the frozen ground, having circled the village several times, her breath crystallising in the moonlight. The village was a short distance from the Résistance camp, and also their means of amassing supplies. The villagers were sympathetic to their cause and allowed them to shelter there and helped them out. She looked around, soon spotting Amélie leaning against a rock a short way up a hill.

Amélie cradled her beloved sniper rifle to her chest, scanning the area through her scope. Under the guise of checking the perimeter, she was really searching for a suitable place to set up her radio so that she could broadcast her updates to Herr Schmidt.

“See anything?” asked Lena, her boots crunching in the gravelly ground.

Amélie looked up from her scope and smiled. She had just found her ideal broadcasting location. “Nothing, fortunately.”

Lena nodded. The village was not under suspicion. Not yet, at least. Vichy agents were on the lookout for Resistance fighters, but had not swept this far. “Only a few more hours. Then we can sleep.”

“ _Oui_.” Amélie didn’t plan on sleeping until she had contacted her employers. Beside her, Lena shivered slightly as she paced back and forth, her rifle clicking against her thigh. Amélie shouldered her rifle and began walking back towards the village. “Cold?” asked Amélie, a tad unnecessarily when Lena fell into step with her.

“Little bit,” replied Lena, kicking a few stones off the dirt-road. “So, love, how did a girl as pretty as you end up in the war with a rifle in her hands?”

Amélie couldn’t suppress a light chuckle. It was what Isabelle would do, she told herself firmly. “I could ask you the same question.” She was secretly pleased to see the faint blush on Lena’s cheeks, half of her spiky hair sticking out from under her beret. A perfect deflection. 

“You know I was a pilot.”

“ _Oui_ , but how did you manage such an impressive feat?”

“Easy,” laughed Lena, though the sound wasn’t quite as cheery as Amélie had become accustomed to.

“How did you end up here?” she asked curiously. When Lena didn’t answer her immediately, she glanced at her. Lena’s smile had slid from her face, the sparkle dimming in her deep brown eyes. “I…uhm…”

Amélie knew that expression. She had seen it reflected back at her in the mirror when dark memories of her past resurfaced. Amélie felt a strange pang in her heart but dismissed it almost immediately.

She had made a habit out of keeping herself unattached. This was her mission. She wasn’t here to make friends. After a while, she had become so distant that she had suppressed nearly all emotions for anyone. And yet, Lena wasn’t one of those she was tasked to kill. She didn’t kill indiscriminately. Perhaps she didn’t need to be this cold. Plus she had to stay close. For the mission’s sake.

“Oh, _chérie,”_ she said without having to act her concern. “ _Désolée._ I didn’t mean to – _”_

Lena sighed and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “It’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it.”

Amélie began to shake her head. She shouldn’t be the one to hear this. But it might be pertinent information.

“Six months ago, I was assigned a mission for the RAF. Typical thing,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “Intercepting Luftwaffe squads. I went into the fight, raring to go as usual.” She grinned a little, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Racked up my hits. I was the pride of the unit. But... we got hit. Several times.”

Amélie found herself listening intently, Lena’s eyes shimmering in the silvery light. Her voice grew quiet, forcing Amélie to walk a little closer to hear her.

“We… went down. There was so much smoke. At night when I close my eyes, I can still…” Her voice caught. She stopped walking, massaging the bridge of her nose. “I was the only survivor.”

Amélie felt another unfamiliar pang in her chest. “Lena,” she said softly as she abandoned her attempts at detachment for a moment, placing her hand on Lena’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Lena replied with a sniff, though her eyes were wet. 

Amélie gave her arm a gentle squeeze before releasing her, casting her gaze back over the landscape before they entered the gates of the village. “I know a little of traumatic events.”

“You do?” 

Amélie nodded, considering how much she should say. “My husband was murdered by a... a mercenary working for the Nazis.”

“Oh my God, Isabelle!”

Before she could move, Amélie found herself wrapped in Lena’s embrace, breathing in a sweet scent from her hair. Amélie froze, she hadn’t been hugged since…

But Lena’s warmth washed over her. _For the mission._ So she relaxed into the touch, placing her hands awkwardly on Lena’s back.

“Those bastards!”

Amélie sighed. “ _Oui._ ”

Lena withdrew, though she kept her hands on Amélie’s forearms. “We’ll get ‘em,” she promised, fire burning in her eyes. “Kick ‘em right out of the war.”

Guilt tugged at Amélie’s nerves as she said, “I hope so.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Later that night, Lena trudged back to her bunk, wishing a quiet goodnight to her fellow patrollers and a few fighters who were still awake. She then stripped off her coat and rifle, hanging them off of her bedpost. Pulling off her clothes to her underwear – there was no room for modesty here – and clambered onto the top bunk.

A few minutes later, she spied an exhausted Amélie whipping off her coat and slipping into the bunk below her. Lena listened to her quietly undressing and felt the bunk move slightly as she lay down.

Lena rolled over, getting comfortable and waiting for sleep to claim her. She hoped she wouldn’t be plagued by nightmares, but it was in vain. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept soundly for the full night. But then, perhaps she deserved it. As the pilot, she was responsible, no matter what Angela had told her. She should’ve noticed, she should have evaded. And this was her punishment. What could she say to those poor men’s families when she got home? These thoughts whirled in her head as she succumbed to her exhaustion.

* * *

 After around an hour of fighting sleep while listening to Lena’s faint breathing along with the light snores of the other fighters around her, Amélie quietly got up and threw on her thick jumper over the trousers and shirt she had kept on under her duvet. She left her rifle under her bed, but she tucked her revolver into her belt, along with the knife that resided in her boot at all times. Then she walked silently through the rows of bunks to the door, slipping out of the warehouse and out into the chilly breeze.

She made her way undisturbed to her motorbike, parked out in front along with the other vehicles. The few fighters she passed merely nodded to her, or paid her no heed at all. In the light of a nearby fire burning in a metal bin, she located her bike and ran her fingers over the cold metal. She crouched, shielding her activity from any onlookers and carefully lifted the seat off. Inside were the components for a radio that she had transferred into the hiding spot when she had intercepted Isabelle.

She muttered to herself as she glanced around, ensuring no-one was watching as she lugged the radio parts into a small bag she had procured. When she was positive she was unseen, she strode towards the rocky outcrop she had seen before through her scope. It would shield her from view when she needed to broadcast, and it was sheltered from the elements. Perfect.

The walk only took her five minutes through thickets of trees and shrubs, but the radio weighed her down on her already exhausted legs.

When she had finally reached the outcrop, she spotted a large crevice in which she could set up. She knelt and fitted the components together, ignoring the cold that seeped into her skin. Finally, it was ready.

“Widowmaker to HQ,” she said in German. “Come in, HQ.”

A few moments passed when she heard only static. It whined and buzzed until a voice came through.

“Go ahead, Widowmaker,” replied a female German voice.

“Resistance base infiltrated. Awaiting further information.”

“Understood. Report back at 2300 hours on this frequency on Monday the 26th.”

“Understood,” replied Amélie, committing the date to memory.

The radio crackled into static again until Amélie turned it off and fetched a nearby fallen branch with which to hide the radio under.

Her journey back to the base was far faster, now she was free of the heavy radio, and soon enough she had slipped back into the barracks. She had grown accustomed to the groans and shouts of other soldiers in their sleep. It was easy for her to block them out and fall asleep. But as she drifted off to sleep, one particular voice made her heart ache. Lena's quiet yet distressed words, muffled by her covers, spurred her to her feet.

" _Chérie_ ," Amélie muttered, the nickname spilling from her lips as it did far more frequently than she cared to admit. She balanced on the edge of her bed and peered over at the diminutive figure curled up in a nest of covers. Still, she mumbled and twitched, trying to ward off imaginary terrors. Clasping the edge of the bed, she gently shook what she guessed was Lena's shoulder under the bedclothes.

Lena batted her hand away, still mumbling about fires and smoke. Amélie shimmied down the bed, placing her cool hand against Lena's flaming hot skin of her cheek. Lena snapped awake, shooting upright so suddenly that Amélie nearly keeled backwards to the floor, had she not gripped the edge of the bed so tightly. When she had recovered, she was looking down the barrel of a pistol. 

Amélie's eyes went wide, but she remained calm, looking into Lena's sleep-clouded eyes. It was hardly the first time she had stared down the barrel of a gun. 

"It's alright, chérie," she whispered after a few moments, remaining entirely still. "It was a nightmare, that's all."

Realisation slowly dawned on Lena as she stared at Amélie, then her eyes dropped to the gun in her hand. 

"Oh my God!" She tossed the gun to the end of her bed, cradling her head in her hands. Then she looked up through her fingers, eyes wide and watery. "I'm so sorry, Iz."

Amélie chuckled, covering the spike of guilt. "Don't worry," she soothed, slowly reaching forwards and squeezing Lena's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Lena nodded with a sniff, running a hand through her bedraggled hair. "Just nightmares. Daft, really."

"It is not." She realised her thumb was stroking Lena's hot skin, enjoying the feeling, the closeness of the gesture. She quickly retracted her hand. "Goodnight, Lena."

"Night," came the reply as Amélie returned to her own bed, though as an afterthought, she raised her foot and nudged the wooden slats above her, surprising Lena as her mattress moved. Her reward was Lena's muffled laughter, bringing a smile to her own face. 

* * *

 

Bullets sprayed the truck, forcing Amélie to duck out of the way just in time. This was the third battle in as many weeks, and she was no closer to completing her mission. Still, she couldn’t say it was boring. Not with the Resistance fighting back against the oncoming Germans determined to flush them out.

During these skirmishes, Amélie had proven herself a ‘worthy’ asset to the Resistance, picking off the troops with her rifle. Their deaths didn’t bother her unduly.

Her eyes swept the battlefield for a certain brunette, quickly locating her nearby. More often than shed like to admit, she found herself searching for her. To ensure her link to the Resistance was still intact, that’s all.

The young girl was pressed up against a tree, peeking out to fire with her pair of revolvers. The little thing was a spitfire in battle, fast and agile as she worked her way up to break enemy lines. Out of the corner of her eye, Amélie saw movement towards Lena.

“Lena!” she yelled. “On your right!”

Lena spun, firing a bullet right into a German soldier, felling him instantly. Amélie picked off another soldier aiming for Lena’s turned back. She felt satisfied watching the man fall, his blood staining the white snow. Lena scrambled over to the truck, saluting the French woman with a grin.

“Good shot!” she called over the noise of battle, reloading her revolvers under the cover of the truck’s wheels.

“ _De_ _rien_!” Amélie replied with a laugh as she lined up another shot. 

 

Lena swore loudly as she saw a soldier disappear behind the far side of the truck. Seconds later, he popped up over the side and aimed at Amélie’s back. Acting instinctively, Lena jumped up onto the back and threw herself at the soldier, who was hanging onto the back of the stationary truck. Lena smacked the butt of her unloaded revolver across his face. In his shock, he let go and fell to the ground. Loading her gun, she cocked the hammer and leaned over the edges of the truck, firing at him twice. He didn’t get back up.

More gunshots rang out across the battlefield, but they were becoming more sporadic as the Resistance fighters drove the soldiers back. For now.

“Alright, love?” asked Lena, taking a moment to catch her breath. She leaned back against the wooden slats along the sides of the truck.

Amélie remained in her crouch, peering over the sides to watch the last soldiers scarper away. “Fine. _Et toi_?”

“Fit as a fiddle.”

They had formed quite a team over the last few skirmishes, combining Amélie’s strategic mind and long-range skills with Lena’s agility and instincts up close to the enemy. Amélie covered Lena while she broke enemy lines, and if the battle turned against them, Lena defended Amélie.

Lena ambled over to Amélie, promptly taking the hand offered to her to help her up.

“Nice shooting, Iz,” Lena commented as she sat down beside her, waiting for the other fighters to join them.

“Thank you, Lena.” Lena had coined ‘Isabelle’s’ nickname the week before, and Amélie felt increasingly guilty about the lie she was living.

“Glad you’ve got my back,” she grinned, rubbing a smear of dirt from her revolver.

Amélie felt a now familiar pang in her heart. They were becoming steadily more frequent the longer she spent with Lena. “I too am glad to have you.” She nearly faltered, realising how she had to act less and less to appear convincing as time went by.

Every three days she sneaked away from the base and reported any information she discovered. She was still not privy to sensitive information but she heard things in passing. Names, locations and the like. She never mentioned Lena. Something in her simply wouldn’t allow it. Lena was no part of it. All she wanted was to go home.

“Love?” Lena’s voice cut through her contemplations as the truck revved up. “Everything okay?”

“ _Oui, bien sûr_ ,” she replied. The truck lurched, sending Amélie crashing into Lena. “ _Désolée, chérie.”_

Lena waved off her apology. “Don’t fret it, love.” 

* * *

 

Over the first month, Amélie had been ordered to kill two fighters. Both were visiting from another Resistance base. One she took out a few weeks prior – shot in the heat of battle. She had pinched a German rifle, turned and shot him. Nobody had seen. The other, she had sabotaged his car before he left the base just a couple of days ago. It had blown up not a mile down the road. No suspicion. Just unfortunate accidents.

The fighters had been understandably morose as the air grew colder. The Germans seemed to be able to predict their every move, sometimes luring them into a trap, or otherwise pre-empting their attacks and forcing them to retreat.

It was Amélie’s new orders that troubled her. The words of the radio operator echoed through her head.

“There is a British pilot harboured in one of these bases, along with a number of other pilots and soldiers being channelled through back to Britain. Find out which.”

Why? The question burned on Amélie’s tongue but she never voiced it. Instead, she wandered back to the base and slipped back inside. But she couldn’t face Lena yet.

She couldn’t bear to look into those brown eyes, for she knew now it would force her to question her orders. Already she was failing her mission by not reporting Lena’s whereabouts immediately. The words sprung to her lips but something smothered them, locking her jaw tightly.

 

* * *

 

 After yet another battle, they trudged back through the snow together, straight to the bunks as night fell. It had been a long day of battling, and the fighters were exhausted. Lena stripped off her clothes, wet from snow-melt, and hung them on the end of her bed, changing into a loose shirt and a cleaner pair of combat trousers. Amélie sat on her bunk, lost in thought again.

Lena had noticed. She always noticed. Isabelle was definitely not as bubbly or emotive as Lena herself, but sometimes it seemed her thoughts delved to an even deeper level, one that blocked her off from the rest of the world. Lena, ever-present, always alert, envied that kind of meditation. But Isabelle always resurfaced looking confused or irritated. Not one to pry, Lena allowed Isabelle’s artful deflections whenever she asked what was wrong. She ducked under and waved a hand in front of Isabelle’s pale face.

Isabelle snapped back to the present, a chilled hand reaching up and grabbing Lena’s wrist, yanking her down as her hand came up to meet her throat.

Her eyes widened as she stared into golden pits of emptiness, nose-to-nose with someone Lena didn’t know.

Then emotion flickered back into her eyes and her own eyes widened, mirroring Lena’s shock and confusion perfectly.

“Lena,” she gasped, releasing her tight grip on her throat. “I am so sorry!” Again, Lena waved it away, coughing quietly as she regained her breath. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know never to sneak up on you now,” Lena coughed with an attempt at a smile. Ever so carefully, Isabelle reached out, ready to back away as soon as Lena withdrew. However, Lena didn’t shrug her off. Isabelle’s cold hands ran over Lena’s arms, one running up over her shoulder to her chin. Gently, she tilted Lena’s head to the side to look at her neck. The cold was soothing against Lena’s hot skin.

“ _Trés désolée, chérie. J’espère que vous pouvez me pardonner.”_

“Calm down,” rasped Lena, smiling as Isabelle’s golden eyes fixed on her again, full of concern. “Takes more than that to put me six feet under.”

“ _J’aurais pu te faire du mal,_ ” said Isabelle, tucking a strand of wayward hair behind Lena’s ear.

“Relax, love,” said Lena. “You talk faster when you’re worried, you know. And in French. I can barely understand what you’re saying.”

Isabelle quirked an eyebrow, surprised. “I do?”

Lena nodded. “I hardly get half your French anyway though,” she said with a wink.

“Oh,” said Isabelle. She noticed her hands were still resting on Lena’s face and arm, so she quickly withdrew them. Lena had been enjoying the chill on her hot flesh. “I will try not to, then.”

Lena’s eyes shot open wide. “Oh no, no I didn’t mean that!” Her own speech sped up, her hands waving to negate the misinterpretation. “I need to learn more French. Perhaps you can teach me,” she grinned, punching Isabelle gently on the shoulder.

“I’d be happy to,” she replied before she could stop herself.

“Great then. I’m going for a bite to eat. You coming?”

Isabelle moved to get up, but then stopped. “I am quite tired. I think I will go to bed early.”

“Suit yourself,” she smiled, bounding out of the room after Winston with a quick salute.

* * *

 Amélie sat back on her bed, huffing a long sigh. She couldn’t hide her amusement at Lena’s antics. With Lena gone for the next hour or so, judging by her usual habits, Amélie had more than enough time to go and report in again. The fighters had no reason to suspect her, so paid her no heed when she went out for a ‘walk’, only to sneak out to her radio.

She did so now, leaving her gun and throwing on her coat. Her boots thudded against the ground, out into the snow and across the yard. There was a gate that barred her way, manned by patrols and a guard tower, but she had found a way around this problem by clambering up a small pile of logs and swung over the fence. Landing gracefully in a crouch, she set off across the snow, unaware of the figure observing her, hidden behind a small hut.

 Amélie searched the trees as she walked, but could see no-one following her. Her tendency towards paranoia had proven useful many times in the past, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being followed. But she saw nobody on the five minute walk. And she was far from defenceless. She approached the outcrop and crouched down, brushing away the snow from the slab of rock she used to hide the device before she lifted it off and reached down for the radio.

“HQ, this is Widowmaker. Come in,” she said into the machine, switching to German. The radio was filled with static.

A twig snapped somewhere behind her. Amélie spun, hand darting to her pocket. For a few tense seconds, there was silence. Then another snap, a rustle, and a bird flew from a tree into the night.

“Widowmaker,” said the female voice through the radio, her voice warped by a dodgy signal. “Go ahead, Widowmaker.”

Amélie crouched down again, seizing the freezing receiver and raising it to her lips, where it was engulfed in steam from her breath. “No sign of the pilot yet. There’s to be a movement of fighters –”

Something dug into the back of her head. Cold. Metal. An all too familiar click sounded.

“Do not react,” whispered a voice that made her heart race. “Lie to them.”

Amélie slowly inclined her head as the German radio operator spoke over the airwaves.

“Sorry, HQ,” she said into the radio. “Momentary distraction.” And then she lied. The fighters were indeed moving, but not where she said. She spoke slowly and carefully, as usual, though her pulse thundered in her ears. The barrel of the gun never left her head. When she was done, she calmly placed the radio receiver down, chills running down her spine.

“Hands behind your head,” snarled the voice.

“Lena –” she started, but was cut off.

“What are you?” asked Lena, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. “Collaborator?” Her words were spat out like poison. “Spy?”

Amélie licked her lips. She could lie. But she found she didn’t want to. “M – my name is –”

A blow struck the back of her head. She cried out in pain, slumping forwards onto snow, clutching the wound.

“I don’t give a shit who you are!” Lena hissed, bringing her boot down on Amélie’s back. The blow drove the air from Amélie’s lungs, pressing her into the snow. Lena’s hands danced over her body, relieving her of her pistol. The knife in her boot remained undetected.

Again, Amélie tried to speak. “Lena, I can explain everything. I can help!”

A cold, heartless laugh met her ears. “Save your breath, love.”

With that, Amélie felt a blow the back of her head, and her world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

When she awoke, the first thing she registered was pain. The back of her head ached, as did her wrists. She noted her bunk never usually felt this uncomfortable. And then she remembered.

She was in unfamiliar territory. The floor beneath her was cold and concrete. The air was damp. Above her was a single, bright light bulb. She was in a three by three room. Iron bars ran across one wall. No windows.

Someone stood behind the bars; arms folded, their face blank of emotion, cast in shadow.

“Lena,” Amélie said, her voice hoarse from sleep. She sat up, rubbing the back of her head. Her hair was matted, smears of red coming away on her fingers. Lena’s mouth twitched. She unfolded her arms and headed for the door off to the left. “Wait!” shouted Amélie. The level of desperation in her voice should have shamed her, but she didn’t care. “Wait, Lena! Please!”

To her surprise, Lena halted. “Widowmaker,” she replied, her voice icy. It pained Amélie to hear such a cold sound from one as warm as Lena.

“Lena, I can explain –”

Lena shook her head, still not looking at her. Amélie clung to the bars, her knuckles white. “You told them you hadn’t found a pilot. Why?” she asked, her voice flat and quiet as she turned to face her. At Amélie’s surprised look, Lena huffed a humourless laugh. “Yes, I understand some German.”

“I…” Amélie herself didn’t quite understand the answer. “I couldn’t tell them about you. I wouldn’t.”

“But why?” pressed Lena, her voice icy enough to freeze Amélie’s blood. “Who are you?”

This was it. This was when she truly chose her side. Maybe not even a side, but a person. Sides didn’t matter to her. As long as she was on Lena’s.

“My name is Amélie Lacroix,” she said quickly, mind racing for anything she could say to make Lena believe her. “I am an assassin, a mercenary. I was contracted by German agents, hired to infiltrate the Résistance.”

For several seconds, Amélie stared at the back of Lena’s head, willing her to turn around, to speak. To do anything to break this awful silence. Her fingers were numb on the freezing bars of her cell, but she didn’t notice.

Finally, Lena stepped forwards into the light. Amélie’s detail-oriented brain picked up a vast array of information in a second. Lena’s slightly puffy, red eyes with dark circles underneath. Long shadows crept across her face from the dim light in the corner. Her nails bitten far shorter than they had been. Clothes ruffled, hair mussed, face pale. “You gave them our plans over the radio.”

Amélie nodded, looking to the floor as she ran a hand through her long, black hair. Her stress levels were through the roof. Even staring down the barrel of a gun was less intimidating than Lena’s harsh gaze right now. “ _Je suis vraiment désolée, chérie_ –”

“Don’t,” said Lena.

Amélie ceased immediately, realising she was speaking French. “Lena,” she breathed, feeling herself close to tears for the first time since… “I’m sorry. I never meant to –“

“Just don’t.”

Amélie felt her eyes watering. “Please.”

Still, Lena stared at her, face devoid of any emotion. “Save it for the interrogation.” With that, she was gone.

* * *

 Several days later, Lena hadn’t been back in the cellar-turned-prison. Sometimes, like now, she lingered outside, wondering if she should go in. Genji manned the door to the interrogation room. At her request, he informed her whenever 76 went to speak to Amélie. Though she loathed the Frenchwoman, though she had broken her heart, she knew that 76 could go to extreme measures to get information. She tried to stay away, but she always returned, drawn back like a magnet.

They had moved bases, and Lena had barely spoken a word to anyone. Not even Winston or Angela could crack a smile from her. 76 had requested she leave the interrogation up to him and Genji, and she was more than happy to oblige. All the time Isabe – no, _Amélie_ was unconscious, she had been present. But now that she could look into the eyes of the woman who betrayed her, she couldn’t face her at all. She had trusted her with her life, maybe even began to lov –

 A piercing scream jarred her thoughts. Barely pausing for thought, Lena wrenched open the door and darted inside. Genji rose to his feet and darted to the door, barring her way.

“76’s orders, Lena,” he said in his calm tones. “You can’t go down there.”

“He’s hurting her!” she yelled, trying to get around him.

Genji clasped her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. “She’s a traitor, Lena. Because of her, good men and women have died.”

Still, Lena struggled, another scream only making her more desperate. “This ain’t right, Genji! We ain’t like them!”

In a smooth movement, she broke Genji’s hold on her and slipped under his arm, slamming into the door and wrenching it open.

“Lena! Stop!”

“Piss off!” was her curt reply as she raced down the stairs. She stumbled down the last few steps and skidded into the cellar. Then she froze.

Inside the bars, Amélie was on her knees, face held tightly in 76’s fist. In his other hand he gripped a bloodied knife. Amélie was limp, her dark hair plastered to her face with sweat. Blood dripped in the stone floor. 76 raised the knife again, pressing it into Amélie’s already bloodied cheek.

“Enough!” yelled Lena, her voice echoing in the stone room. 76’s head snapped up to look at her.

“I told you to stay away,” he said in his low voice. "It's for your own good."

Lena fetched the keys from the wall. Chains rattled as 76 dropped Amélie carelessly to the ground. Her body landed with a solid thud.

“Lena, this is necessary –”

“Get out,” she snapped, unlocking the cell door.

76 didn’t move. “We need to know what she’s told them.”

“I’ll get it out of her,” Lena assured him. “But we’re not doing this.”

76 hesitated, his eyes darting from Lena to Amélie, assessing the threat level towards his comrade. “She is responsible for –”

“I know what she’s done!” snapped Lena, striding right up to 76 and jabbing her finger into his chest. “But war cannot justify this! War can’t be the reason we turn into monsters!” 76 opened his mouth to reply, but Lena shook her head. “Don’t even bother.”

“Your friendship with her is clouding your judgement.”

Bristling with anger, Lena narrowed her eyes. “I will wound a soldier, I’ll kill if I have to. But that’s on the battlefield. And I’ll be damned if I ever hear a scream like that again and I walk on by.” Lena pointed to the bars. “Now get me Angela.”

76 weighed up his options, before acquiescing.

“Alright.” He took Lena’s offered key. “Genji and I will be upstairs. Shout if she tries anything.”

Lena merely nodded and waited for 76 to lock her inside. Only then did she turn and drop to her knees next to a barely conscious Amélie Lacroix.

It pained her to see her friend – ex-friend – like this. Her wrists attached by a length of chain to a metal pipe along the back of the cell. For days, she must have been subjected to this treatment. Lena doubted she had been fed in that time. And while it was true Amélie had betrayed them, emotional bonds were never easy for Lena to sever.

Her hands reached out, running over Amélie’s cold skin. She was stripped to her undergarments, the material covered in blood and sweat. Rolling her onto her back, she saw that Amélie’s body was covered in cuts of varying lengths and depths. Some had healed a little already, while some were still oozing blood. Other areas of her skin were bruised; black and blue welts on her pale, chilled skin.

Lena barely knew where to start.

“Iz –” No. Not Iz anymore. “Amélie,” she said softly, cradling her icy skin in her hands. Her thumbs brushed the grime, sweat and blood from her cheeks. “Come on, wake up.”

A faint moan was the reply.

“That’s it.” Lena tapped Amélie’s cheek gently, avoiding the new cuts. “I’ll be two ticks, love.” She placed Amélie’s head down on the floor and called on Genji to fetch her some food, hot tea, a basin of hot water and a cloth, along with some bandages. Genji returned with all items bar the last.

“76 doesn’t want to waste medical supplies on her,” he had said with a shrug.

* * *

The hot water had cooled slightly when Amélie’s eyes finally flickered open. Lena sat by her side, gently cleaning her wounds.

“Lena?” she said, her eyelids far too heavy, her brain too groggy to process. Forcing her eyes open again, she was gazing into warm, brown eyes.

“Evening,” she said in reply. Her tone was still horribly void of Lena’s usual chirpiness, but Amélie was grateful to hear her voice at all. “Are you in pain?”

Amélie would have laughed. She hurt nearly everywhere. Instead, she nodded.

“A fair bit.”

Glancing down, she could see angry purple bruises on her stomach. A few of her ribs may have been broken. She was no stranger to pain, but she was grateful that Lena was helping her. Perhaps she didn't completely hate her.

She felt warmth on her arm as Lena pressed a cloth over her skin.

“This isn’t exactly the interrogation I expected.”

Lena looked up from her work, fixing Amélie with an odd look. “I can call 76 back in if you prefer,” she replied, ice in her words.

Amélie shook her head, instantly regretting the movement when her muscles ached. “ _Non_ ,” she replied, feeling herself slipping into a more natural sleep. “ _Non, s’il tu plait.”_ She could feel Lena’s ministrations lulling her into a relaxed state for the first time in days. She felt safe. 76 wouldn’t have simply given up. Amélie could only remember that he stopped suddenly. Lena was shouting. It was Lena who saved her, even after all she had done. “ _Merci, chérie_ ,” she mumbled, her eyes closing. “ _Je ne te mérite pas_.”

“No, you don’t,” agreed Lena, but she continued, slowly working her way up Amélie’s arm. “But you don’t deserve to be treated like an animal, either.” 

* * *

When Amélie next awoke, Lena had finished her face and arms, and was working her way across her stomach. She herself was growing drowsy, her eyes drooping every few minutes. Hunger had begun to gnaw at her stomach. She could only imagine how Amélie had felt over the past few days.

“You need rest too, Lena,” said Amélie’s quiet yet stronger voice. Lena looked down into pools of molten gold, losing herself for a moment.

Lena said nothing, but continued cleaning the deeper knife wounds on her abdomen. There were so many, peppered amongst her collection of older scars. 

She felt Amélie’s muscles tense as Lena worked her way down her chest. “ _La vache!_ ”

Lena snatched her hand back – she had accidentally brushed against Amélie’s badly bruised ribs. “Sorry,” she said, a tiny shred of warmth spilling into her voice. “Are you okay?”

Amélie nodded, her fingers gingerly applying pressure to her abdomen. “Just unexpected.” She watched as Lena continued, much more careful this time. “Thank you, _chérie_ ,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Lena remained silent.

* * *

“Feeling better?” asked Lena, crouching down outside the bars. After she had cleaned up Amélie, who slipped in and out of consciousness, she left to fetch some food and seek out Angela. However, she ran into 76 by the door, who stated the good doctor was too busy. Her time was precious and she had other patients. Ones that hadn't betrayed them.

“Much,” she said with a genuine, yet still tired, smile.

Amélie’s care was left up to Lena. Of course, she did her best, but without proper antiseptics and painkillers, she worried about how Amélie would recover. An infection could be as deadly as  bullet here.

A few hours later, she was glad to see Amélie sitting up against the far wall of her cell, eating slowly out of the bowl Lena had left her. In Lena’s hands, she held two cups.

Amélie sniffed the air, chewing on the last piece of food in the bowl. “Is that coffee?” Her eyes darted to the brunette.

Lena nodded, wafting the scent across the room. “Now you’re going to answer some questions.”

Amélie’s smile faded slightly. Lena settled herself down on the floor by the bars, placing the coffee down beside her. Just because she didn’t want her to be beaten didn’t mean that Lena had by any means forgiven her. After their slightly warm exchange earlier, Lena was back to all business.

“Alright,” said Lena, watching Amélie sit up straighter, running a hand through her long black hair. Not that it made much difference. “Amélie Lacroix. What was your mission here?”

“I informed my contractors of most of this area’s Résistance movements,” she replied immediately. Truthfully.

Realisation dawned on Lena’s face. “That’s how they keep managing to anticipate us.”

Amélie nodded grimly. “I was also responsible for Monsieurs Gilles and Miller’s deaths.”

Though she had hoped the deaths were just accidents, Lena sighed, casting her eyes to the floor for a moment. They had been dealt quite a blow by their loss.

“Those were my orders, Lena,” Amélie added softly, crawling closer to the bars. A part of Lena wanted to shy back, to keep away from this person, this strange amalgamation of the ‘Isabelle’ she knew and the Amélie she really was. How much of her was real? Was she still playing her? Was this all an elaborate plot to destroy the Resistance?

She remained seated where she was, sipping her tea to calm her nerves. The chains rattled as she moved.

“Lena,” said Amélie again, even softer than before, barely even whispering. Lena looked back at Amélie’s beautiful face, marred by bruises and cuts, into those deep, golden eyes that begged for Lena to believe her. “They sent me after you. They knew there was a British pilot in the area. They wanted me to find you and kill you.”

The silence between them was close. Tense. Absorbing both women into its grasp, choking the words that surged to their lips. They both knew the question Lena had to ask. Neither knew the answer.

But time carried on, and finally Lena gathered herself enough to say, “Why didn’t you?”

Once again, silence enveloped them.

“I...” Amélie swallowed, gathering herself. “I didn’t want to.”

Lena folded her arms, twitching her head in a silent order for her to continue.

Amélie felt her nerves begin to fray. Vulnerability was never her strong suit. 

"Amélie," Lena said, her voice firm. "Is that why you and I became friends? So you could get close to me and kill me?"

“ _Merde,”_  Amélie sighed, running a hand through her hair again, her wrist weighed down by her shackles.

“ _Exactement.”_ The words sounded odd yet strangely endearing with Lena’s accent. Amélie couldn’t help but smile, just for a moment. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“At first, I thought of you as a way into the Résistance. My contractors hadn't mentioned you yet. The fighters trusted you. And then if you trusted me, they’d be more likely to trust me as well.”

“You wanted to use me."

Amélie nodded, hanging her head in her shame.                         

“What do you mean, at first?”

Again, she slid forwards, resting her hands on the bars as she looked into Lena’s eyes, searching them. Pleading with them. “I’m not sure myself. Time passed and… I grew closer to you.” She paused briefly. “You could always make me smile. Or laugh. You cared about me.” Amélie felt her skin tingle, her nails digging into the freezing metal. Never before had she wanted to simultaneously be closer to someone whilst wanting to run far away. Here she was, the most defenceless she had ever been: stripped to barely a few rags, beaten, bloodied and weak. And there was Lena, barely three feet from her. Lena was safe. Amélie had managed that, and it was enough.

“I haven’t been cared about like that since my husband was murdered. I couldn't let you die in battle, nor could I kill you myself.”

Despite her attempts to keep her face a blank slate, she slipped up, allowing an ever so brief flash of sympathy before she marshalled her features again.

“How can I believe you?”

Amélie rested her forehead against the bars. “You heard me. You knew I had told them I hadn’t found you.”

“I know a bit of German,” she shrugged. “So what now? You wait for your moment to escape and run back to the collaborators? Against your own countrymen?”

Amélie let out a slight chuckle, raising her shackled arm. “I’m afraid, _chérie_ , I live _à la côte_.” Lena’s perplexed look spurred Amélie to continue. “I have no loyalties. They pay me for my services, but I serve no government or country.”

Nodding slowly, Lena considered her options. “Right now, the only thing standing between you and a brutal, slow death is me. You can be of use to us.”

“How the tables turn,” she said with a sly smirk, though stretching her facial muscles irritated her injuries.

Lena ignored her quip, formulating a plan. “You’ll keep reporting to your contractors, telling them what we want them to know. And you’ll give us the information we need.” She halted, breathing deeply to maintain her cold façade. “It’s either that or I won’t be able to stop 76 again.”

Amélie nodded, running her hand over a particularly bad cut. “ _Merci._ For stopping him. I will do as you say.”

“Good.” Lena pushed the coffee through the bars before rising to her feet and leaving without a word.


	5. Chapter 5

“This is Widowmaker.”

Amélie turned her head to Lena, who stood behind her, arms folded. 76 sat at his desk across from them. The maps had been covered with a sheet to prevent Amélie from seeing them. Genji stood by the door, his eyes never leaving Amélie. She wasn’t surprised that his fingers tapped across the rifle he cradled to his chest.

Her voice was calm and collected as she rattled off the speech 76 had put together for her. The information she provided was a mix of calculated half-truths. As long as Amélie’s information could be trusted, she was an asset. The second she was doubted, the Résistance would have no reason to keep her alive.

“Copy that, Widowmaker,” the woman at the other end of the line stated in her curt manner. “We’re deploying a new agent in the area to assist the search for the pilot.”

Amélie’s eyebrows shot up as she looked back at Lena, who looked equally alarmed.

“He will arrive from Paris in a week’s time. Rendezvous with him if you can. Codename Reaper.”

A shiver rippled through Amélie’s spine. She swallowed, feeling Lena’s eyes on her as she licked her lips and answered as coolly as she could manage. “Will do. Over.”

The line went dead.

“What happened,” 76 demanded, looking from Amélie to Lena and back again.

Amélie ran a hand through her hair. “They’re sending another agent to look for Lena. Codenamed Reaper.”

“She’s telling the truth,” confirmed Lena, standing behind Amélie, arms folded.

76 turned his attention to Amélie. Though his dark glasses hiding his eyes from view, Amélie could feel them boring into her. “Do you know of this Reaper?”

She nodded. “I have heard of him. He is a mercenary, one of the best.” Amélie paused, before adding with a slight smirk, “Not as good as me, but good enough.” Her eyes darted to Lena, and she could see a slight quirk in her lips. Satisfied with her small victory, she returned her full attention to 76. “He too has no loyalty. It is unlikely he will attempt to infiltrate the Résistance. Instead, he will most likely track down Miss Oxton and then destroy whatever gets in his way.”

76 pursed his lips, lost in thought.

“One more question,” interjected Genji, eyeing Amélie carefully. “What happened to the girl you were posing as? Isabelle.” Amélie’s teeth worried her lip. “Is there a chance we can retrieve her?”

Amélie shook her head. “I intercepted her on the road. It was too much of a risk to allow her to live.”

“I see,” sighed Genji, turning away and shooting a look at 76.

“We’re done for now.” 76 waved at Lena. “Take her away.”

“Sir,” she saluted, before escorting Amélie past Genji and out the door. 

* * *

 

In the dead of night, they walked around the back of the new base. Amélie was kept hidden from the rest of the fighters. All they knew was that there was a traitor being held in the basement of the old farmhouse.

“Lena,” Amélie asked quietly as they trudged through shallow snow. The lights gleamed against the white powder that covered the ground, glittering silver in the patches where the moonlight shone in through the gaps in the trees.

Amélie was glad of the clothes Lena had supplied her with to fight off the chill. The basement was chilly and more than a little damp. Lena had promptly brought her a blanket and a duvet to keep her warm on the rickety old cot that had been thrown there for her.

“What?” replied Lena, her tone sharper than Amélie was accustomed to. She walked a pace behind Amélie, watching her every move. It was certain that the hand in her pocket was resting on her pistol, ready to pull the trigger.

“How do you know German?”

It took a few moments for Lena to respond as they walked past a barrel with a fire glowing in the bottom. A few fighters were gathered around it on their watch. They waved at Lena, and thought nothing of the woman she was escorting.

“I had a nanny who was German. I was taught French and German. I was better at the latter.”

Amélie smiled. “A pity.”

“It’s proven a useful skill.”

Amélie’s smile slackened as she felt a sudden cold that had nothing to do with the weather. Slowing her pace slightly, she glanced around at Lena, who refused to meet her eye. “I know I am not to be trusted –”

Lena scoffed loudly.

Amélie chose to ignore it. “But everything I have told you is true.”

Up ahead, her new home loomed against the dark clouds above, its angular structure glittering in the various gas lamps that had been hung around the area. Lena nodded to a few passing fighters on patrol. She had insisted that Amélie didn’t need chains. If she tried to run, Lena wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet through her head. The conviction in her voice, the determination in her eyes had convinced 76 and Genji.

For Amélie, it was a strange revelation. Lena had saved her, true, but she now knew that the second she betrayed the Brit, her number was up. Not only would she have no protection from 76 and his fighters, but Lena would be at the front of the queue to fill her with lead.      

“Honestly, I don’t care what you say,” replied Lena as she fished out the key for the farmhouse doors. They were heavy, heralding anyone’s passage with a loud creak of the rusted hinges. Stone walls did little to keep the chill out – in fact, it seemed to leach in and settle around her as they entered, Lena locking the door behind her.

Amélie halted and turned, finally catching Lena’s gaze and reluctant to let her go. What she saw in Lena’s eyes was a maelstrom of emotion; anger, sadness, betrayal, confusion, all swirling around her deep brown eyes. This remained only for a moment, before Lena’s mask reappeared again. She shoved Amélie back into the cellar without a word and slammed the door behind her, the thunk of the lock mingling with Amélie crying her name. 

* * *

 

Trudging through the snow, Lena sighed as she adjusted the pistol in her pocket. Down the lane she walked loomed a huge, disused mill. That was where 76 was based, locked in his room full of maps and reports, Genji at his side. Her bed was located in a barn – her and the other twenty or so fighters here. Around two weeks had passed since her discovery of Amélie’s treachery, and in those two weeks, she was loathe to say she missed her. She missed the familiarity of hearing her breathe nearby, of their conversations about anything and everything. She missed the comfort of someone who listened to her. And though she knew Amélie was using her, the Frenchwoman was so adamant, so determined to convince Lena that she wanted to protect her that it gave Lena pause. Perhaps she was telling the truth. But Lena couldn’t allow herself to hope, lest she put more lives at risk.

Withdrawing a hand from her pocket into the bitterly cold air, she shoved open the mill door and immediately spotted Angela Zeigler pacing up and down outside the stairs that led to 76’s quarters.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice hoarse from the cold air.

Angela looked up, a small smile forming on her lips. “Lena,” she said, walking up to her and wrapping her arms around her. Lena returned the embrace tightly. “I heard about Isabelle. I’m sorry.” As she backed away slightly, Lena noticed her blonde hair was streaked with blood. “I know you were close.”

Lena simply nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “What’re you doing here?”

“A group of us helped free some Allied fighters from Africa who were being transported to Germany. They were brought here. Their captain is upstairs with 76 just now. A few of them were in quite bad shape, but we patched them up. 76 requested I update the captain as soon as possible.”

“All sorts you get round here,” mused Lena with a smile.

Footsteps sounded on the rickety stairs. Both women looked up as they saw a pair of dirtied boots followed by a pair of loose, brown trousers. A white tank top covered a muscled abdomen, a slightly overlarge green jacket slung over the top. A rifle hung off of her shoulder on a tattered strap. Black hair framed a brown face, a strange tattoo under her right eye.

She stomped down the last few steps and paused in front of the pair, hands on her hips. “You are Dr Zeigler?” she asked in a smooth, accented voice, looking from Lena to Angela.

When Angela didn’t respond immediately, Lena cleared her throat and nudged the blonde with her elbow.

“Angela, please,” she said, holding out her hand. Lena could swear her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Angela,” the woman repeated carefully. “I am Captain Fareeha Amari.” She turned to Lena. “And you are?”

“Lena Oxton. Pilot.”

“Pleased to meet you. Now I must attend to my men. Dr Zeigler, would you walk with me?”

“Of course,” replied Angela, flicking through her hastily scrawled notes on the scraps of paper she could find. “See you later, Lena.”

As the pair departed, Lena climbed the stairs to 76’s quarters. She knocked twice on the splintered door and entered when instructed.

“Sir,” she greeted with a salute.

“Lena,” he responded, gesturing for her to stand by him. “I assume you met Captain Amari on your way in?”

“I did.”

“While she remains here, she will be a valuable asset. With her help, we can stage an attack on the docks. Once we free them up, we can get you on a boat back to Britain.” His expression softened slightly, though it was difficult to tell with his dark glasses covering his eyes. “You’re a great fighter, Lena. I’d keep you if I could, but this Reaper…” 76 tailed off, his hand tightening into a fist as he glared at the map on the table. “I knew him. Gabrielle Reyes. One of the greatest soldiers I’d ever fought alongside.” He paused, his voice growing steely again. “He will stop at nothing to find you. He will hunt you until he has you. And you cannot fall into Nazi hands.”

Lena nodded. Of course she understood.

“So here’s the general plan,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height. “We take the dock. We get you, Amari and her men into a boat and set you off to Britain. Miss Lacroix will be joining you.”

“Why?” demanded Lena before she could stop herself.

76’s lip twitched, though he didn’t reprimand her. “She has information and skills the Allies can put to good use. She also has information about us, about the Resistance. If we leave her here in France, the Nazis might make her a better deal and she’ll turn against us. No, the further she is from their grasp, the better off we’ll all be.”

“I…” Lena didn’t know if she should object or thank him. “I understand, sir.”

“Lacroix will continue to be your responsibility. You will keep her safe and make sure that she doesn’t double-cross us again. And if she does, it is up to you to make sure she doesn’t get far.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Tomorrow morning we’ll go over the plan with Captain Amari. Report with Lacroix at 0800 hours.”

Lena saluted and turned, heading for the stairs.

“Oh, and Lena?” he called after her. “You did the right thing.”

She paused by the door, turning to look back at him. “Sir?”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have stopped. Or that I wouldn’t do it again if the situation arises.” He took a breath. “But I’m glad you stopped me when you did.”

Lena smiled. “No problem, sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” 

* * *

 

Retiring to the barn, she sat on her bunk amongst the other snoring fighters. She was going home soon. It was finally hitting her. After months and months of waiting, of fighting, she was going back to her people. She could hardly believe it. Over time, she had forced down how much she missed her home. Fighting and planning kept her mind busy and she had adapted.

But now it was as if she had just ripped open a healing wound. All that hurt, sadness, loneliness leapt to the surface again like blood seeping from a cut. Sobs slipped out of her as tears spilled down her cheeks. Pressing her lips together, she tried to suppress it – there was no need to wake anyone else. But for once, they wouldn’t stop. She covered her face with her hands, barely able to breathe as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

Her mattress dipped as someone sat down beside her. Then arms wrapped around her, a warm embrace tearing down the floodgates and letting the wave of emotions surge over her. She was pulled against someone, a large hand rubbing her back. Her cries grew louder, tears positively streaming down her face. Still, the arms clung to her. If she woke anyone with her echoing sobs, they were decent enough not to show it.

Soon, another hand took her own, smaller, calloused hands encasing hers.

As with anything, the emotions passed with time. The pain lessened, and she gradually calmed down until she could breathe normally.

“Hello, little Tracer,” said a low, rumbling voice. Lena looked up to see a giant of a man sitting on her bed.

“Winston,” she said with a quiet sniff. “Sorry, love. I’m all over the place.”

She noticed that her hand was still being held, not by Winston, but by the soldier from before. Fareeha Amari. “Oh my God,” she almost laughed, hastily wiping her eyes. “I’m not usually like this –”

“Don’t worry, Lena,” Fareeha said in a calm, smooth voice. Her thumb rubbed circles on the back of Lena’s hand.

“Crying in front of a complete stranger,” she sniffed. Winston pressed a handkerchief into her free hand.

Fareeha smiled as Lena mopped the tears from her face. “I have seen much worse. Now, why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?”

Lena looked from Winston to Fareeha and back again. Then she explained about the dock, about her ticket home. She didn’t mention Amélie, but she talked about her friendship with Isabelle, her hurt at the betrayal. Fareeha nodded, never letting go of her hand while Winston kept his arm around her.

“No wonder your emotions are all over the place,” said Winston. “ _Petite chou,_ you have been through a lot.”

“You look tired,” said Fareeha, gently squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Winston agreed, hugging Lena before he got to his feet, heading for his own bunk. “ _Oui_ , get some rest.”

Lena quickly undressed and slipped under her covers, hoping sleep would claim her soon. 

* * *

 

The next morning, Lena woke and rolled out of bed, quickly getting dressed and heading down to grab some food for herself and Amélie. She ambled sleepily out of the barn and into the mill where food was kept and cooked. There, she picked up a mug of tea for herself, some coffee for Amélie and a heap of croissants and pastries that the nearby village had supplied them with.

Then she stuffed the food into her pockets, holding her first in her mouth as she fastened her coat up against the chilly morning air.

Making her way over as quickly as possible to escape the cold, she munched on one of many pastries. The two mugs she held in one hand, a few flakes of snow falling into the liquid and melting almost immediately.

 

It was equally chilly in the cellar when Lena arrived, whistling a little tune.

“Amélie,” she called to wake her. Across the room, she saw the lump on the cot move.

“ _Cinq minutes_ ,” was the grumbled reply.

Lena couldn’t help but smirk as she looked around the cellar. It was full of broken barrels and boxes. There were no windows, the only light either from the gas lamp in the corner or the sun shining through the open doorway.

“Now, Amélie,” she sighed as she stepped down the stairs. The lump didn’t move. Lena could see a corpse-pale foot sticking out of the duvet.

“ _Non_.”

“Yes.”

“ _Non_!”

“76’s orders.”

“ _Ce bâtard peut aller en enfer dans un canot._ ” However, Amélie slowly sat up, rubbing her tired eyes.

If it was possible, Amélie looked even better when ruffled by sleep, her long hair sticking up at angles as it spilled from her ponytail. Even the circles under her eyes and the healing cuts and bruises didn’t diminish her looks at all.

“Whatever that was about a canoe, I won’t repeat it to him.”

Promptly, Lena turned away when Amélie threw off her duvet, revealing a slender, lean body clad only in underwear.

“Will 76 not have your head for letting me out of your sight?” Amélie teased, her voice still hoarse from sleep. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll… I don’t know, grab a stick and hit your pretty little head with it?”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“I could wrap my hands around that neck,” she said, her voice much closer this time. Still Lena didn’t turn around, though she felt Amélie’s eyes on her. “I could pin you against the wall and kill you before you could even scream.”

“But you won’t.” Lena turned to see Amélie pulling on a pair of trousers. “Because you know how fast I can fire a shot. You’d be dead before you could even touch me.”

Amélie chuckled, the sound low as she pulled on her olive-coloured jacket. One she had lifted from Isabelle. “What a shame that would be.”

Lena narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond, merely offered Amélie the mug of coffee.

“ _Merci_ ,” she thanked, practically inhaling the first gulp. Lena tracked Amélie’s eyes as they travelled over her worn trousers and her warm coat, coming to rest on her pocket. “ _Chérie,_ why do you have pastry sticking out of your pocket?”

“Oh!” Lena fumbled in her pocket, tossing a croissant to Amélie. “Breakfast.”

Amélie caught it, a strange expression on her face. “How thoughtful.”

Lena shrugged, heading up the steps again. “Can’t have you fainting in an important meeting.”

Amélie closed the cellar door behind her and walked beside Lena, stuffing the pastry into her mouth in a less than civilised manner. When she was done licking the crumbs from her fingers, Lena offered her another which she took gratefully.

Up ahead, the village of fighters were waking up. Some milled around with their weapons, smoke from their cigarettes mixing with the haze of their warm breath. 

* * *

 

Lena chewed on her pastry, holding it in her mouth as she fumbled with the pistol tucked into the back of her trousers.

“Relax, love,” she said, catching Amélie’s alert gaze. “Bloody thing’s digging into my back.”

She caught a glimpse of a familiar blonde and brunette walking down towards the mill a little further ahead. They were laughing, one shoving the other lightly. Then the brunette spun around, walking backwards in front of Angela. Fareeha looked up as she spoke, spotting Lena. “Such an attractive look!” she called, a playful element to her voice.

Lena realised that she still had a croissant stuffed unceremoniously in her mouth. “Careful, Amari!” she shouted through a mouthful of pastry. “I could be a taken woman!”

Fareeha laughed again as they drew closer. “Are you?”

“Luckily for you,” she replied, grinning from ear to ear as she and Amélie drew level. “I am not.”

Angela excused herself with a smile and headed to the mill to check on her patients.

After waving Angela off, Fareeha reached out and patted Lena’s head gently, dislodging a few flakes of snow. “Are you feeling better today?”

“Yes, I’m –”

Amélie’s voice cut across Lena’s, urgency lacing her words. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Lena was taken aback, her eyes darting to Amélie’s hand gripping her arm. “I’m fine. It was nothing.”

“And you are?” asked Fareeha politely.

Amélie’s eyes snapped to Lena, who cleared her throat.

“This is Amélie Lacroix. Amélie, this is Captain Fareeha Amari.”

“Oh,” said Fareeha, retracting her hand and sliding it back into her pocket. Her other hand came to rest on her rifle strap.

Lena rocked back and forth on her feet, noticing the tense movement. “76 filled you in on all that, I take it.”

“Only a few details.” Fareeha looked Amélie up and down, assessing her. “Shouldn’t she be more secure than this?”

Shaking her head, Lena waved away Fareeha’s concerns. “She won’t try anything.” Her brown eyes flickered to Amélie’s golden ones. “Will you?”

Amélie glared at Fareeha but shook her head. “Getting shot and killed would really ruin my day, Captain.”

Fareeha still looked unconvinced. “I’ll be watching you, Lacroix.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, a lot of the first draft got deleted and uni work was getting on top of me. I'm also aware I misspelled Gabriel somewhere and there's probably a bunch of other mistakes. However, I'm trying my best to stay on top of this, forgive any continuity errors as its been a while since I've looked at this. Hope you enjoy :)

“I’ll be watching you, Lacroix.”

Amélie pondered this warning as her eyes roved over 76’s base of operations. She was aware of the little glances cast her way by the little group that had gathered. On the other side of the desk stood 76, leaning against the table and glaring at the map. At his side stood Captain Amari; tall and proud, hands clasped behind her back. Lena, of course, stood with Amélie, leaning against the wall casually. Genji stood by the door with Winston and the rest were new to her. 

Lena must have caught her looking at the tall American, complete with cowboy hat, as she leaned close and whispered, “Jesse McCree. One of the best fighters.” Amélie's gaze shifted to a massive man standing on the other side of the room. His hair was snow-white, a scar over his eye. Once again, Lena followed her gaze. “Reinhardt Wilhelm. A valuable ally in Germany.”

The door opened once again and a woman strode in. She was young, Amélie would guess she was around Lena’s age. She walked with an easy grace, a confidence that held her head high.

“You’re late,” said Genji as he closed the door behind her.

She merely laughed and spun the only chair in the room to the front. “You’re all early.” Then she sat, legs crossed at the knee. Amélie could see the pistol strapped to her thigh as her long trench coat fell away from her leg.

“That’s Satya Vaswani. Top class infiltrator and spy.”

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” said 76, with a scoff from Satya. “We can get down to business. There’s a dockyard we’ve had our eye on for a while. Now, we’re going to take it.” He turned to Amari. “Captain, if you please.”

Captain Amari nodded and stepped forwards, pointing to a spot on the map. “Here’s the thing. It’s heavily fortified. A straightforward assault won’t work. So, the plan is this. Vaswani infiltrates the facility, covered by Miss Lacroix.”

Amélie perked up at the sound of her name. “While Vaswani’s inside, Lacroix will wait for her signal and take out the gunner towers. That leaves the way clear for our forces. Winston, McCree, Wilhelm, your squads can storm their defences from the East, South and West.

“Once the dock is under our control, Amari, Lacroix and Lena can be escorted to Britain.”

Amari looked to Satya. “Think you can handle that?”

Satya laughed. “I’ve seen the plans. There’s no building I can’t get into.”

“Fantastic,” smiled Amari. Her eyes slid to Amélie. “And you?”

Amélie shrugged. “They didn’t call me Widowmaker for nothing.”

It was as if the frigid wind outside had suddenly swept through the doorways, seeping through the walls. Amari’s gaze didn’t waver from Amélie. Everyone in the room froze, aware of the sudden tension that seemed to spring from nowhere. 

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice unnervingly flat.

Amélie quirked an eyebrow. “Widowmaker was my codename." Her eyes darted to 76, who looked shocked, even behind his glasses. "I thought you had explained –”

Quick as a flash, Amari had leapt over the table and thrown herself at Amélie. Lucky for her, Lena reacted much faster and shielded her. “Captain Amari!” she yelled, grabbing her shoulders. “Fareeha, please!”

Fareeha simply growled in reply, throwing Lena out of the way and launching herself at Amélie, driving her into the wall. Amélie struggled to breathe as a hand closed around her neck.

“You! You murdered my mother!”

Amélie’s eyes grew wide as she tried to fight, but Fareeha was strong. She was oblivious to the shouting around her. Her senses dulled, black shadows beginning to encroach upon her vision.

Lena and Satya tried to pull Fareeha off of her, but were unsuccessful. Finally, the pressure on Amélie’s throat disappeared and she collapsed on the floor. Reinhardt had stepped forwards and lifted Fareeha over his shoulder. She didn’t go quietly – she kicked and screamed for all she was worth, the sound echoing in the corridors outside until it faded away.

Amélie coughed as her lungs sought desperately for air. She felt a hand on her shoulder, another rubbing circles on her back. She looked up to see Lena kneeling beside her.

“Lacroix,” sighed 76. He was pinching the bridge of his nose under his sunglasses. “Please tell me she’s mistaken.”

Amélie searched her memories, flicking through all of her targets. There were so many. But then there was a face. Much like Fareeha’s. The name took a few more seconds. “Ana…”

“Well, shit,” cursed 76, sounding more resigned than angry. 

* * *

 

It took a while before Captain Amari returned, her face steely and cold. She swept back into the room, apologising to the gathered operatives and continuing as if nothing had happened. Amélie noted that her dark eyes never once moved in Amélie’s direction throughout the duration.

After the briefing was completed, Amari was the first through the door, disappearing without another word. The others filtered out, most discussing the mission ahead. They weren’t mentioning the outburst, but she knew it played on their minds.

“Are you feeling okay?” asked Lena as she held open the door for her companion.

“Fine,” she replied, though it still hurt her throat. Amari had a crushing grip.

“Good. I –”

“Lacroix. A moment, please.” Amélie rolled her eyes as she turned to face 76, ready for a verbal lashing. It’s not like it was personal. She had nothing against Ana. She was simply carrying out orders. “I have a job for you.”

Amélie quirked her head, curious. "What kind of job?"

A cold smile appeared on his face. "The type you do best."

"I see."

"Despite what you have done, it is clear you are a valuable operative. It seems a waste to keep you locked up when you could be furthering our cause. You and Lena work well together as a team, so you two are heading out to solve a minor problem of ours. See if you're worth keeping around."

Amélie bit back her acerbic reply, opting for silence instead.

"You will protect Lena at all costs."

"Of course," she replied coolly. She would have anyway, but there seemed to be something more to the story, judging by the urgency of his words. "But what makes her so special? Aside from the obvious."

76's mouth tightened ever so slightly. "That is none of your concern. All you need to know is if anything happens to Lena, you're the one I'm coming after first."

She nodded. "Understood." 

* * *

 

“Amélie!” Lena buried her face between Amélie’s shoulder blades to shelter from the frigid wind whipping into her, attacking every exposed area of skin. “Slow down! You’ll kill us!”

Amélie merely laughed, the sound nearly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike engine. “Where would be the fun in that, _chérie_?”

Lena cursed loudly, arms clinging around Amélie’s waist as the bike flew down the mountain road, skimming over patches of snow and ice at top speed. Amélie’s expert handling ensured they made the next turn with millimetres to spare, nearly sending them hurtling off of the cliff face to the valley below.

“You’re insane!”

“ _Mais bien sûr_!”

Still the bike surged on ever faster. Lena knew it would just take one bump in the road and they’d both be dead. She considered the pistol strapped to her hip for a brief moment, but shooting the driver probably wasn’t the best solution.

­“I don’t think killing us both will help anything!”

“You should have some faith!” Amélie turned to glance at Lena as they swerved around another hairpin bend. She couldn’t bear to watch as the trees flew past in a blur. Besides, the snowflakes that had begun to fall were like tiny knives attacking the exposed part of her face that was left uncovered by her scarf.

* * *

 

Finally, Amélie made a sharp turn, skidding to a halt on the road and spraying a wave of snow in a graceful arc. She let out a joyful laugh, steam pouring from her mouth. The adrenaline rush made her feel alive – for about an hour, she had tasted as close as she could get to freedom. The only other time she felt like this was when she escaped into her work, the thrill of the trigger beneath her finger.

A tight sensation around her middle reminded her that she had company.

“Lena,” she said, still smiling. “You can let go now.”

The young Brit stumbled off of the bike and all but fell into the nearest tree, clutching the frozen bark in gloved fingers for support.

“You…” she gasped. Amélie raised an eyebrow, the picture of innocence. “You madwoman…”

Amélie waved her off, swinging a long leg over the bike and stretching. “I told you I could get us here before dark.”

Lena didn’t look convinced. “At what cost? I feel like I’ve aged ten years after that.”

Amélie scoffed. “Well, if you had driven, you really would have aged ten years by the time we arrived.”

“At least I’d have lived that long.”

“Calm down, _chérie._ We made it in one piece.”

Lena began unfolding the map, muttering something that sounded a lot like “By the grace of God and that alone.” However, she consulted the paper for a brief second before folding it up again and peering up the side of the mountain. “The Nazi camp should be up there. 76 reckons they’re too close for comfort.” 

“The bike won’t manage that terrain. The trees are too dense.”

Lena nodded. “Walking it is, then.”

* * *

 

Together, the pair hid the bike under a covering of fallen branches to ensure no passing patrols would spot it. It was unlikely, but still possible. Then they began their climb through the pine forest. The sun was setting, the grey skies making it seem duller. Though it was growing dark, they didn’t resort to torches unless it was absolutely necessary in case they were spotted. Conversation came easily as they walked, their boots crunching fallen foliage beneath their feet. The trees that had sheltered them from the cool breeze and the light snowfall, were beginning to thin slightly.

  
“How’s assassin as a job?” asked Lena after a short lull in conversation.

Amélie cast her a glance. “Why?”

Lena shrugged. “Never met one before,” she replied coolly.

“It’s the same as any job, I suppose.” Amélie paused to scramble over a pile of rocks, leaning back to offer Lena her hand. It wasn’t taken. “I get given a name, half the money in advance and then I kill someone. And then get the rest of my money.”

“But why?”

It was Amélie’s turn to shrug. “I’m good at it.” She was unsure whether Lena was genuinely curious or if she was judging her. “You fly because you’re good at it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“In a way. It is not enjoyment exactly but…” She took a moment to find the correct word. “Exhilaration. To hold the power of life and death for even just a moment is a rush that I can’t find anywhere else.” Lena regarded her with a strange look, one she found hard to read. “Perhaps you fly for the same reason?”

A nod. “I do. All my life I’ve wanted to fly. It’s the only place my mind is clear.”

“I understand.” Amélie held back a branch to prevent it from whipping Lena as she passed. “I imagine you can’t wait to get in the air again.” Her eyes narrowed as Lena looked away quickly, running a hand over the back of her neck. “Unless you don’t.” Still, Lena was silent. “You can talk to me, you know. I may have faked my name but I didn’t fake our friendship.” Amélie hesitated for a moment before she reached out and gingerly placed a hand on Lena’s arm. “I’m on your side now.”

Lena took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, a column of steam drifting skywards. “I…” Amélie waited patiently. “I don’t know if I can fly again.” Brown eyes met gold. “If I had only reacted faster, been better, then maybe I –” Lena looked down at the ground, suddenly aware that this was the first time she’d said it out loud. The weight of guilt had been wearing her down for months. And with such an important mission, her failure only made her feel worse.

“It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

An empty laugh echoed in the trees around them. “If I wasn’t there, they might still be alive!”

Amélie could hear the break in Lena’s voice. “You can’t –”

But Lena had ducked down, creeping up to a nearby cluster of rock. “They’re here,” she whispered as Amélie crouched down beside her, peeking out over the top. Further up the rocky slope, they could see a fire burning.

* * *

 

Amélie dug into her pack and retrieved her night vision scope. Fitting it to her rifle, she peered at the camp. “Six soldiers. All armed.” She saw one take a swig from a bottle before passing it around. “They may be _un petit pompette_.”

“What now?”

“Tipsy.” She could hear Lena grumbling about ‘Why she couldn’t just say that then?’ but she ignored it with a roll of her eyes. “I have five bullets before I need to reload. I can get two, perhaps three, before others react.”

Lena had pulled out her pistols from her coat pockets, checking the chambers. “Then I’ll sneak up and take out the others. Start shooting on my signal.”

“What’s the signal?”

“The screaming.”


	7. Chapter 7

 Lena’s quick footsteps faded while Amélie adjusted her aim, preparing bullets to reload. She took out her night-vision scope, the glare of the fire forcing her to look away while her eyes adjusted. She had her targets picked out – the three furthest from Tracer’s hiding place.

The anticipation was rising within her like some beast waking from slumber. She felt alive now. Like the hunter she was. Long ago she had come to terms with what she was. She was ruthless, unfeeling. A cold-blooded killer. When she was on a job, nothing mattered but the kill. Whatever it took. It was the only time she felt truly at peace, focused completely on the task at hand.

For a few minutes, she fell into a meditative silence. Waiting. Watching. Lena should have been nearing the position soon. She made a few slight adjustments to her aim, settling her crosshairs onto the back of a man’s head. Her finger rested on the trigger. For that brief time, she was the barrier between life and death for this man. All his hopes and dreams, she could shut them off with a quick squeeze of her finger. That’s all it would take. The thrill was like fire in her veins. A drug she craved. 

* * *

 

Finally, the spell was broken. A gunshot rang out, thundering around the mountains. Amélie fired her shot just as Tracer’s second shot sounded, both bullets striking their targets. Time seemed to slow down. Amélie breathed in as she primed the next bullet, listening for it to click into place. Then she fired again on her outward breath. Every move was fast yet methodical – a practised, instinctive action. Her targets fell one after the other before they could even fire their weapons.

When silence fell again, Amélie peered through the scope to find Lena, who was strolling up to the fallen soldiers. She suddenly looked out towards Amélie, as if she could see her watching. She wasn’t smiling, but she offered a small wave and began the scramble down to Amélie’s position.

Amélie slung her weapon back over her shoulder and waited for Lena to return.

“Do you enjoy it?” asked Lena as soon as she had drawn level with her.

Amélie began trudging through the woods back towards the bike. “Killing?’

Lena nodded, her torch-beam gleaming against the snow.

“There is a thrill in it, yes.”

“Is that the only reason you’re an assassin?”

Amélie felt a twinge of annoyance. “If someone is good at baking, they become a baker. People play to their skills.”

Lena ducked under a low-hanging branch, persisting with her questions. “But how do you even get into this kind of work?”

With a sigh, Amélie finally relented, even just to get Lena off of her back. “I had a normal job for a while. Secretary for the government. My... my husband, Gérard, he was a spy.” She paused, taking a deep breath. Lena waited patiently. “He… Soon, I was approached by the… higher-ups, asking if I would be willing to perform a few tasks for them. You see, while Hitler was gaining ground, the government began searching for more spies. I agreed. I had little choice, really, but I did well. Far better than they expected. On top of that, I enjoyed it.” Amélie held back a branch for Lena, allowing her to pass by, their boots crunching in the snow. “They used me more often, and soon, they decided to train me. I excelled, I was their best marksman. I knew Gérard was a spy from the start, but they kept the fact that I was now one from him. He trusted me. Then they asked me to inform on his movements, his whereabouts. Anything suspicious. Finally, they set me on his tail, just as the Vichy government was enforced. I discovered that he was aiding British agents, such as yourself, to move around France and travel to England. I knew my orders.

“I returned to our home and waited for him to return. As soon as he fell asleep, I…” Once again, she paused. The process of digging up memories she had buried so deep was proving to be far more difficult than she had expected. Despite how painful it was, it also felt good, like a weight from her shoulders. “I took his throat in my hands and squeezed the life out of him.”

She turned to look at Lena, afraid of what she would read on her face. Instantly, she wished she had never said anything. Lena’s eyes were wide, her brow furrowed as if trying to solve a puzzle.

“So you see, _chérie_ ,” she sighed. “Since then, I have made a living through killing. I am the best at what I do. Government, private employers. Germans. Anyone with money, I will kill for.” Amélie shook her head, flakes of snow dripping down her black hair. “I am not a good person.”

To her dismay, Lena nodded. “No. I suppose not.”

Amélie felt her eyes sting, but dismissed the emotion. It was far harder around Lena. For a few moments, they walked in silence, approaching the snowline.

“But then who is in this war?”

“ _Quoi_?”

Lena looked up at her, nose and cheeks tinged red with the cold. “Those men up there were just following orders. They probably have families. So you’re not the only monster here.”

“Lena,” said Amélie. “You are not a monster.”

Lena simply waved her hand to silence her. “Look, love,” she said, her eyes downcast, gleaming in the light of the torch. “I can’t count the number of planes I’ve shot down over the course of this war. The number of lives I’ve ended, because of orders.”

“But you didn’t kill someone you loved –”

Lena laughed, cold and harsh. “Didn’t I?”

Amélie waited, not wanting to push Lena to reveal her secrets.

“In the crash, I… I wasn’t unconscious right away. I tell everyone that, but… My co-pilot, Stevie, he… he was really badly injured.” Amélie could see tear tracks shining on her face, but said nothing. “I was only awake for a few minutes, it was really blurry. But we had orders. Important information. We couldn’t let it be tortured out of us. So I followed orders. Slugged him right in the head.” Lena’s voice broke, but she swallowed, needing to continue. “I turned the gun on myself, but… I couldn’t do it. Then I blacked out.”

“That is not a sign of weakness.”

“It was reckless. I endangered everyone and cost a man his life when I was too selfish to take my own.”

Amélie shook her head. “ _Non._ You were brave. Brave enough to fly a plane into a war.”

“Brave enough to kill people when I’m ordered to?” she spat. Then she rubbed her forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean –”

“I know what you mean, _chérie_.” 

* * *

 

The rest of the walk to the bike was quiet, as was the drive back. Upon their return, Lena reported their findings to 76. He seemed pleased. He even gruffly thanked Amélie as she left, though he relieved her of her weapon before she left.

“Back to the cellar?” asked Amélie with a light smile.

Lena nodded. “Afraid so, love.”

With a little laugh, Amélie shook her head. “Not the worst place I’ve slept.”

“Do you need anything? More blankets? It’s still quite cold –”

“I’m fine, Lena.”

Outside of the cellar, they both stopped.

“Amélie…” Lena rubbed the back of her head. “That got really deep out there. I just… I don’t…”

Amélie gently patted her shoulder. “I wont tell anyone.”

“It’s not that. I’ve just never told anyone.”

“You did what you were ordered to. It isn’t fair they asked you to do such a thing.”

Lena hummed in response, but then plastered her wide grin on her face. “See you tomorrow.”

“ _Bonne nuit._ ” 

* * *

 

A lone motorbike revved through the mountain roads, a dark, hooded figure steering the machine around terrifying bends at breakneck speeds. He had left the last camp only a few hours ago, and he still had quite a distance left to the next. His gloved hands gripped the handles tighter. He was closing in on her. He could feel it. The higher he climbed into the mountains, the more snow he encountered. Thankfully, he had managed to avoid a storm so far.

Now that he was close to the meeting place, he slowed, allowing the bike to roll to a halt. To his right was an old hut, probably an old farm house. To his left, a massive, steep drop.

“She better not be late,” he growled, shining his torch around the area.

“Don’t worry, _amigo_ ,” was the chirpy reply from behind him. Reaper whipped around, shotgun already drawn by the time the torch beam fell on the origin of the sound. There was nothing there. Behind his mask, Reaper frowned. “What’s the matter, _señor_?” Again, the sound came from behind him. “Can’t keep up?”

“Sombra,” he snapped, his deep voice rumbling menacingly. “Quit playing around.”

He faced forward to see a woman leaning on his bike, inspecting her nails. “Whatever you say.”

“Let’s get going.”

Sombra sighed and crossed to her own motorbike, though somewhat slimmer and sleeker than Reaper’s. “Don’t think you can boss me around on this.”

Reaper narrowed his eyes. “Just remember the three ups. Keep up, shut up and don’t fu –”

Sombra laughed, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she revved her engine. “Don’t worry about me, old man.”

With a roll of his eyes, Reaper gunned the engine and sped off along the road. Sombra grinned as she followed. Everything was going according to plan, she mused.


	8. Chapter 8

 A week passed quickly. Preparations for the assault were coming together well. The other squads were gearing up, running drills and practices until they could infiltrate in their sleep. Lena sat in with 76 and Captain Amari, going over the finer details and trying to plan for every eventuality.

Unfortunately, Amélie wasn’t needed much. She passed her time by working out in her tiny room or sleeping. The only face she saw was Lena’s, not that she could complain about that. Lena’s appearance meant food and conversation, though their talks were often brief. Once a day, Amélie was allowed outside to stretch her legs and take part in a few drills to keep her on top form under the watchful eye of Captain Amari and Lena. Despite her obvious hatred for Amélie, Amari couldn’t complain when Amélie hit every target she was given.

Too soon, she was sent back to her cell, where she was stuck with her own troubled thoughts. She was only too glad when Lena appeared at her door one evening – an odd occurrence. Pausing mid-pull up on the wooden beams supporting the ceiling, she dropped neatly, wiping her hands and grinning at Lena.

“Lena,” she greeted with a nod. “A pleasure as always.”

Perhaps it was the light of the candle, a trick of the shadows or even the cold, but Lena’s check seemed to be tinged pink. In her arms was a dark green bundle.

“Amélie,” Lena smiled, holding open the door. “Your coat, Madame.” She threw the bundle to Amélie. “We’re leaving.”

Amélie felt her heart-rate speed up slightly. Finally, a challenge to dust away the cobwebs from her brain.

“So,” she mused, shrugging on the thick coat Lena had tossed at her. “What’s the plan?”

Lena leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, watching Amélie as she pulled on her boots. “You shoot when we tell you.”

Amélie’s eyebrow rose when she stood up, folding her arms. “That’s all I get?”

“That’s all you get,” replied Lena with a grin. 

* * *

 

They returned to the main building to retrieve Amélie’s rifle, trudging through the ever deepening snow. Amélie had lost track of the days during her captivity, but Lena informed her that it was nearly Christmas.

“Let’s hope the boys on the fronts have a game of footie,” sighed Lena, checking her pistols. “It can always happen again, right?” Her eyes went wide as footsteps approached from behind Amélie.

“Lacroix,” said Captain Amari, staring down at her.

Amélie turned, her gaze steely. “Amari.”

Amari’s finger jabbed into Amélie’s chest. “You better not double-cross us, or I swear I will end you. The only reason I’m not exacting vengeance is because we need you for this mission.”

Amélie tilted her head slightly to the side. “Understood. Captain.”

“As soon as this is over, you better watch your back.”

With that, Amari stomped away down the corridor and slammed the door shut behind her, the wooden frame threatening to give way.

Amélie turned to Lena, concerned at the flashes of emotion on the young woman’s face. “Don’t worry,” she grinned, shouldering her rifle. “I can run fast.”

“Can’t outrun bullets though,” replied Lena, not returning the smile. “Come on, let’s get to the trucks.” 

* * *

 

Once again, Lena and Amélie were stuck on the bike. Up ahead was the convoy of trucks, preventing Amélie from riding at the breakneck speeds she loved so much. Lena was very glad. She was nervous enough already. She was so close to her end goal, returning with her information. It suddenly hit her that she was the only one left who could complete the mission. If something went wrong now, the war could rage on for God knows how long.

But despite her importance, she refused to do nothing, to allow others to die for her safety while she sat nice and safe in a chateau or a bunker.

Her gloved hands were frozen, but her body heat mingled with that of Amélie’s as she clung to her waist. She couldn’t quite understand how she could fly a plane high in the sky but was terrified by a motorbike. Perhaps it was the proximity to the speeding ground, perhaps she was just strange.

Her mind raced with any thoughts that distracted her from the events about to unfold. On the stroke of midnight, their plan would commence. That left them three hours to set up.

“Are you alright, _chérie_?” Amélie called over her shoulder, the wind threatening to whip her words away.

Lena frowned, wondering for a brief moment if the Frenchwoman could read her mind. “Fine, love!” she said, her voice hoarse from the cold air. “Why? Do you ask?”

Lena felt rather than heard Amélie chuckle, her muscles contracting in her stomach just below where Lena held on. “Because I can barely breathe. You’re squeezing me.”

“Oh!” Lena released her grip a little, but not too much.

“Nervous?”

First she shrugged, but then remembered that Amélie couldn’t see her. “A bit. You?”

Amélie shook her head – Lena was grateful that Amélie had tied up her hair into a bun, otherwise she’d have been slapped in the face by those raven locks. “I made my peace with Death long ago. When it is my time, I will go.”

With a sigh, Lena shifted closer, trying to leach more warmth. “I can’t tell if that’s pessimistic or optimistic.”

“It’s realistic, _chérie_.” There was a pause as they manoeuvred around a particularly sharp bend. “Soon enough you’ll be on your way home.”

Though the tone was jovial, Lena could sense an undertone of sadness in her words.

* * *

 By the time they had reached the dockyard, it was around ten o’clock. They had turned off the bumpy road a while ago and were now consumed by coniferous trees. The silvery moonlight illuminated their steamy breath as it poured from them. The trucks finally halted ahead of them, wheels spinning slightly in the dirt. Amélie expertly guided the motorbike to a stop behind them, and the pair stepped off, glad to stretch their legs at last.

Amélie and Lena stuck their heads into Amari’s truck. Satya, McCree and Winston stood beside them, having moved from the front truck with McCree and his men.

“Right,” drawled McCree. “You all know your duties. Stay on coms. Maintain radio silence other than half-hourly check ins or emergencies.” He paused for a moment to suck on the cigar. “We hit them hard and fast to secure the site, then we get Oxton onto a boat. She’s the important one here. As soon as she’s on board, the boat’s gone. Move out.”

Lena and Amélie nodded and returned to the bike. It was up to Lena to guide Amélie to the correct cliff and had all the necessary equipment in her bag. Satya remained for a moment while McCree returned to his truck.

“Lena,” she said politely. “I wish to accompany you on your voyage. I have some information your government will need to hear.”

“Of course,” nodded Lena. “The more the merrier.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Amélie, who was already sitting on the bike, waiting for Lena with folded arms and a bored look on her face. She looked up, eyes narrowed. “Lacroix. I’ve heard of your skill. It is impressive.”

“ _Merci_.”

“I hope your aim is true tonight.”

“I never miss,” Amélie replied. “You have nothing to worry about.”

As Satya retreated, Lena turned and slid onto the bike behind Amélie. “You never miss?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, settling her arms around Amélie’s waist.

“That’s what they say,” Amélie shrugged with a grin. “Who am I to argue?”

With a laugh, Lena scanned the cliffs above the treeline. “We’d better move. That way, towards that big rock sticking out at the top.”

Amélie pulled down her goggles and revved the engine, shooting over the dirt path.

* * *

 “Here we are,” said Lena after a fifteen minute walk. They had had to ditch the bike when the trees began growing too close together.

Amélie looked up, resting her hand against the ragged rock face of the cliffs. The stone was dark, gritty beneath her fingers. “We have climb all the way up there?”

“Not to the top,” replied Lena. “There’s an outcrop thing… There.” She pointed through the darkness. Amélie could just see the ledge silhouetted against the moonlit sky.

“That is still quite a climb, _chérie_.”

“Good thing we brought this then.”

Lena searched in her bag for a moment before withdrawing an object. A grappling hook with a long coil of rope.

Amélie gauged the distance again before looking back down at Lena. “Can you do it?”

“I can try,” she replied, spinning the hook a few times before letting it go. Amélie was impressed – she was close, but unfortunately, no cigar. Twice more she tried, but failed both times.

“Let me,” sighed Amélie, gently taking the rope and hook from her. With a few spins to build momentum, she glanced up, aimed and threw. The hook arced into the night sky, soaring onto the ledge. Amélie pulled on it until it caught and held. She tested it gingerly, allowing her entire weight to swing on the rope. It held firmly.

“I suppose this is that ‘Never missing’ thing,” grumbled Lena. “After you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Age before beauty,” winked Lena.

Amélie laughed, deep and genuine as she took hold of the rope. “And pearls before swine.” She was glad to see the surprised look on Lena’s face – she had no comeback.

With that, Amélie began her climb. The rocks were cold and sometimes slippery in her grip, but she used the rope to aid her when she needed to. It was exhausting, but soon enough, she had hauled herself up the cliff and looked down to see Lena already halfway up. Her smaller feet and hands could use handholds Amélie could not, but she had a height and reach disadvantage.

 While Lena climbed, Amélie set up her weapon. She had no stand, so she arranged herself against the edge in as stable a position as possible. She could see the dock below, 200 metres or so away. Her mind whizzed through her calculations, weighing up the wind direction and speed, the distance. It was all automatic now, but she became so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Lena scrambling up beside her.

“Still have half an hour,” she reported, glancing at her watch. She sat down beside Amélie, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.

Still staring down her magnified sight, she replied, “We can wait.”

* * *

 “What will you do?” asked Lena. “After this, I mean.”

Amélie paused, looking away from the dock and back at Lena. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to do anything.”

Lena nodded, her expression unreadable.

“But given the choice,” she continued quietly. “I’d like to see the sights properly this time. Perhaps you could show me sometime.” She watched Lena’s face closely.

Lena’s lips stretched into a small smile. “Anytime, Amélie.”

Satisfied, Amélie returned to the task in hand, staring down the scope while Lena maintained watch on the surrounding area. 

* * *

 

Finally, Amélie caught a glimpse of Satya. The woman was like a ghost, practically dancing her way across the compound. She seemed to float on air as she crept towards the target.

“She’s in,” reported Amélie.

“Good. Just be ready.”

Amélie nodded, never taking her eyes off of the agent. Every movement was precise and thorough. The first take-down was so fast that Amélie barely caught it. Satya leapt on him from behind, wrestling him to the ground and smashing his face against the concrete. Amélie noticed another figure approaching from around the corner. Amélie settled the crosshairs on his chest, finger pulling on the trigger. However, Satya had it in hand. She darted to the wall and waited until the guard had crossed in front of her, then took him out with a swift punch to the throat before hooking her arms around his neck and cutting off his air supply.

However, Amélie saw Satya’s head snap to the right. Following her gaze, Amélie found a guard in her crosshairs. Automatically, she fired before he had a chance to.

She could feel Lena’s hand tapping anxiously beside her, eager to know what was happening but smart enough not to disturb Amélie unless it was of vital importance.

Amélie followed Satya’s progress, taking out a number of alarmed guards as Satya made her way up to the guard tower. Together, they had taken out the turret gunners, the ones that would cause the most problems for the oncoming squads.

“They’re in,” said Amélie after a few more tense minutes. A few moments later, they both saw a small red light flashing a code in their directions. The signal.

“Let’s go,” said Lena, seizing the rope and abseiling down. As soon as she was down, Amélie followed. Time was now of the essence.

Setting off at a run, the pair wove through the trees, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

 

“Do you hear that?” asked Lena as Amélie lifted the bike from the bushes and jumped on.

“What?” replied Amélie. “There’s no time for this! Get on!”

Only then did she hear it. A low rumbling in the distance. Another motorbike.

“ _Merde_!” Amélie swore, gunning the engine. “Lena! Let’s go!”

Lena leapt on behind her and Amélie revved the engine, sending them flying off into the forest. They were too close to be stopped now. She didn’t look back, only concentrating on the path to the dockyard.

She could hear Lena swearing behind her as the Brit shifted her position. Amélie couldn’t take her eyes off the trees lest they crash, but she felt Lena’s back pushing against hers, hearing gunshots. The quick firing of Lena’s pistols, but also loud, echoing shotgun fire laced in-between.

“What’s happening?” yelled Amélie over her shoulder as they drew closer to the dockyard.

“Someone’s on our tail!” was the frustrated reply. “I can’t get a shot through the trees!”

Amélie saw the trees beginning to thin, specks of light up ahead through the gaps. The docks. They were close. Amélie pushed the bike to its limits, sailing out of the forest into the road that led to the docks. She veered right on the dirt road, her left hand flying out behind her to grab Lena. The last thing she wanted was Lena to fall off due to her driving. She caught a glimpse of their pursuer as she shot off again, a figure on a similar motorbike, wearing black with a white mask, armed with a shotgun.

“Reaper,” she growled.

“What?” shouted Lena as they rounded a corner, the dock looming up ahead.

“Never mind!” she replied, louder this time. “Just get on that boat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos, it makes my day. Hope you all enjoy :)


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